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THE 

MERCHANT SEAMAN 
IN WAR 

BY 

L. COPE CORNFORD 



WITH A FOREWORD BY 

ADMIEAL SIR JOHN R. JELLICOE, 
G.C.B., O.M., G.C.V.O. 



NEW YORK 
GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY 






COPYRIGHT, 1918, 
BY GEOEGE H. DORAN COMPANY 



JUN -6 1918 

PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA 

©CI.A497650 \y 



TO 

THE MEMORY OF 

BRAVE MEN 



In the following narrative, m order to 
conform to the eocigencies of war, it has 
been necessary to omit the names of per- 
sons and to give no more than a general in- 
dication of localities. These discretions 
will not, it is hoped, detract from the es- 
sential value of the record. 



BUT THE COMMON SORT COULD I NOT 
NUMBER NOR NAME, NAY, NOT IF TEN 
TONGUES WERE MINE AND TEN MOUTHS, 
AND A VOICE UNWEARIED, AND MY HEART 
OF BRONZE WITHIN ME . . ." — Iliad 2. 



FOREWORD 

We are passing through a crisis in the His- 
tory of onr Nation during which every individ- 
ual is called upon to take some part. On every 
side there are evidences of devotion to duty, and 
much that is heroic and splendid is brought into 
prominence every day. In a conflict of so vast 
a scale, however, countless acts of gallantry 
must inevitably pass unrecorded and unknown ; 
and unless I misjudge my fellow-countrymen, I 
believe their authors would not have it other- 
wise. Yet the part in this war which has been 
played by the officers and men of the British 
Mercantile Marine is such that some record is 
imperative. They have founded a new and a 
glorious tradition in the teeth of new and un- 
dreamed-of peril, and have borne the full brunt 
of the enemy's illegal submarine warfare. It 
is not only in their honour that I feel this book 
should go before the public, but also as a lesson 
to succeeding generations who will follow their 
paths in freedom on the seas. 

J. R. Jellicoe. 



CONTENTS 

CHAPTER PAGE 

I The Mine 17 

II The Submarine 25 

III "War is War" 30 

IV The Last Chance 39 

V Small Game 47 

VI "Where is 'Harpalion'?" .... 52 

VII Netsuke 58 

VIII The Sole Survivor 61 

IX According to Instructions .... 65 

X The "Lusitania" 70 

XI The Castaways 86 

XII Down in Five Minutes 100 

XIII The Raider 108 

XIV A Gallant Warning 130 

XV The Fight of the "Goldmouth" . . 134 

XVI The Worth of a Life 138 

XVII The Engineers of the" Yser" ... 143 

XVIII Slipping Between .146 

XIX Heavy Weather 152 

XX A Sitting Shot 159 

XXI Shipmates with a Pirate . . . . 164 

XXII "A Cheerful Note" 172 

XXIII Vignette 176 

XXIV "Leave Her" 178 

XXV Fuel of Fire 180 

XXVI The Pilot's Story 188 

XXVII Three Prisoners 195 

XXVIII Hide-and-Seek in the Bay .... 201 

vii 



viii CONTENTS 

CHAPTER PAGE 

XXIX "But Nine of her Crew Alive" . . 210 

XXX Dead Men's Luck 216 

XXXI Firing on the Boats 222 

XXXII The Slavers 225 

XXXIII A Desperate Pass 229 

XXXIV Sticking to It 286 

XXXV A Fishing Trip 239 

XXXVI Twice Running ...... 242 

XXXVII The Fight of the "Aracataca" . . 244 

XXXVIII The Blackguard 249 

XXXIX Settling the Score 253 

XL The Raft 257 

XLI The Flying Death 260 

XLII Brethren of the Shark .... 262 

XLIII The Case of the "Belgian Prince" . 265 

XLIV Expectation and Event .... 270 

XLV Quick Eye and Ready Hand . . 274 

XLVI Panic 275 

XLVII Nine Steadfast Men 278 

XLVIII Carnage 282 

XLIX Unavoidable 285 

L Quite 0. K 288 

LI The Chase by Night 291 

LII The Second Chance 294 

LIII Hard Pressed ....... 297 

LIV Quite Interesting 300 

LV Short and Sharp 302 

LVI Mixing It 304 

LVII Short and Sweet 306 

LVIII The Escape of the "Nitronian" . . 308 

LIX The Danger Zone 310 

LX Receiving Visitors 312 

LXI The Master of the "Nelson" . . 315 

Envoy 318 



PEEFATOEY NOTE 

The Way of the Sea 



The complete history of the doings and the endurance 
of the officers and men of the Mercantile Marine during 
the war cannot yet be written; but by the courtesy of 
the Lords Commissioners of the Admiralty the present 
writer has been enabled to select a series of examples 
from the records of the first three years of war, which 
may serve to illustrate the whole matter. And the 
theme of the book is denned in the Foreword with which 
Admiral Sir John Jellicoe, in the midst of his many and 
great labours, has been so good as to endow the enter- 
prise. 

That enterprise is difficult enough; for the chronicler 
may do his best, and still he must rely upon the help 
of the reader. For whereas the artist in fiction can 
cause the persons of his story to express themselves in 
act and word, and can himself illumine the processes 
of their mind, according to the effect he desires to 
achieve, the narrator of history, dealing with contempo- 
rary persons and events, owns no such pleasant freedom. 
The chronicler can but evoke persons many of whom 
he has never seen, and reconstitute events which he 
has not witnessed, from out the official records, abstract 
like a proposition in Euclid, or from the accounts of 
the seamen themselves, who, with some exceptions, 
frame their style upon the model of the ship's log. And 
no wonder; for men who have endured a deadly ordeal 
take small pleasure in reviving the experience. More- 
over, the circumstances in which the narrator tells his 
story are far from encouraging. Very often he has lost 
his ship, not in itself a gratifying event; very often, too, 



x PREFATORY NOTE 

he comes on shore after having oscillated, wet and 
starving, between life and death in an open boat, for 
days and nights. Sometimes he has been wounded, or 
he has witnessed the violent death of shipmates. 

Thus the master, or the officer, or the seaman fetches 
up in the office of the appointed official, who, if sym- 
pathetic, is still an official, whose sole business it is to 
reduce a strange and a moving episode to an official 
form; upon which it is grimly transmuted into sworn 
evidence of a legal character. 

Nevertheless, the official records own the invaluable 
quality of being true, or as near to truth as may be 
attained by man's fallible recording instrument of 
memory; and truth is of so strange a potency that it 
can even shine through a printed form of the Board of 
Trade. 

But again, the truth fetters the historian; for he is 
bound by the reality of the chain of events; a chain 
which he dare not break in pursuit of the broader truth 
expounded by the artist in fiction. Visible nature 
knows nothing of the conventions of art, which, having 
impressed them upon the mind of man, nature leaves 
him to apply at his discretion. So that the historian 
must take episodes as they occur. It is not for him to 
clew up ragged ends. 

And yet the historian, being in his humble way an 
artist too (inasmuch as he is making something out of 
something else), must still select from the mass of his 
material that which serves his purpose, to the exclusion 
of other matters; for, in default of such discrimination, 
his picture would convey no more than a series of con- 
fused impressions. And in this book it has been the 
design of the chronicler to present the character and 
the virtues of the British seaman, rather than the 
wickedness of his enemies or the horror of his sufferings. 

For a tale of wrong is of no worth in itself. If in 
adversity men and women fail of courage and constancy 
and cheer, then we should lay our hands upon our mouths 
and keep silence, for there is no more profit in speech. 

To tell, with every device of art, of a state of hopeless 
resignation or of a hopeless discontent, like the Russian 



PREFATORY NOTE xi 

novelists, is merely to accuse the Creator; and (as we 
in England hold) falsely. 

There must be an inestimable, essential value in 
courage and constancy and cheer, for as matters are 
arranged in this world, no pain nor atrocity is regarded 
as excessive, so it educes these virtues. Indeed we 
know their worth by that faculty of inward recognition 
by means of which alone we may properly be said to 
know anything. 

It is for this reason that we honour the officers and 
men of the Mercantile Marine, with a sentiment slightly 
differing in kind, though not in degree, from the senti- 
ment which we feel for the naval seaman and the 
professional soldier. For the business of these men is 
war; and it is to be supposed they made their account 
with contingencies when they entered the King's service. 
And although it is not true, what they tell you, that 
they are paid to face mutilation and death, inasmuch 
as you can no more pay a man for these things than 
you can buy a ticket for Heaven, not to mention that 
the actual sum of money in question is, broadly speaking, 
a standing disgrace to the nation, it is still the fact that 
the naval seaman and the soldier fall into another 
category from the civilian who confronts the enemy. 

The merchant seaman is a peaceful trader. During 
many generations before the war, the whole duty of 
defending the Mercantile Marine fell upon the Royal 
Navy. It was not always so. In the old wars, the 
merchant seaman and the Navy man were very often 
the same, serving indiscriminately in either Service. 
Merchant ships mounted guns, and fought them 
hardily. It was a part of the instructions given to a 
master of the Mercantile Marine that he must defend 
his ship against the King's enemies. Probably the last 
merchant masters who engaged the enemy were the 
masters of the ships of the Honourable East India 
Company. 

The Navy was evolved from the Mercantile Marine. 
In the beginning, the seamen of the merchant service 
worked a ship of war, which carried soldiers to do the 
fighting, and the fighting was an affair of bows and 



xii PREFATORY NOTE 

arrows, close quarters and sharp steel, differing only 
from land warfare in that the men-at-arms were afloat. 
But in the meantime, the seamen themselves, perpetually 
engaged in cross-Channel raids and always in distant 
voyages warring against pirates, learned to fight their 
ships as well as to sail them, and so acquired the art of 
tactical manoeuvring under sail, in which the ship 
herself becomes one with the weapons of war, like a 
hand wielding a sword. 

Thus by degrees the soldier became eliminated from 
shipboard, and (to abridge the generations) the seaman 
became the fighting man. Traces of the old system 
survived to within living memory in the Royal Navy, 
in whose ships a master, who was not a fighting man, 
was responsible for the sailing of the ship. His descen- 
dant is the navigating officer, but the navigating officer 
of to-day is a fighting man who specialises in naviga- 
tion. And the Royal Marines, who are both seamen 
and soldiers, and who represent military, as distinguished 
from naval, discipline on board, combine the two 
systems. 

And while the evolution of the fighting seaman was 
proceeding in the King's ships, the merchant seaman in 
the trading ships was losing his military attainments 
and becoming the civilian proper, as we knew him 
before the war. 

During the nineteenth century, when England became 
the first industrial nation, and acquired half the carrying 
trade of the world, the merchant seaman, in common 
with his kinsfolk ashore, fell into that commercial 
slavery which was (and is) the capital sin of England. 

The men who sailed into every quarter of the globe, 
part-adventurers in ship and cargo, now declined into a 
state of hopeless dependence, ill-paid, ill-fed, ill-equipped, 
sent to sea in ill-found ships, sweated by the shipowners 
when trade was brisk, and left to rot on the beach when 
the insane commercial competition brought the inevitable 
penalty of depression. 

Save when the indignant Plimsoll cursed the opulent 
gentlemen of a lethargic House of Commons into a 
spasmodic effort, the country did nothing for the men 



PREFATORY NOTE xiii 

who brought its daily food and its monstrous riches. 
The country knew nothing of the merchant seaman. 
People owned a vague idea that the sailor (as they called 
him) was a jovial, reckless dog, fond of his lass and his 
glass, usually drunk when on shore, and in that glorious 
condition wasting his money in riotous living, and gene- 
rally getting knocked on the head and robbed in the 
process. But it was nobody's business but his own. 
Like some millions of his fellow-creatures on shore, he 
was the chattel of limited liability companies, whose 
shareholders took no sort of interest in anything what- 
soever except dividends. 

Consider now this silent and strange figure of the 
merchant seaman, pervading the centuries unnoticed. 
Shrewd of eye, hard-featured, tough as oak, rough- 
tongue d, humorous, kindly, rising up and going to rest 
with danger as his constant copesmate, as careless of 
life as indifferent to death, he holds his existence solely 
by virtue of his precarious mastery of the implacable 
sea. That perpetual conflict sets him in a class apart 
from landward folk, of whom he conceives a certain 
contempt. They dwell at home at ease; they have 
every night in; and they ask him if he has ever beheld 
that glorious work of God, a sunrise at sea. They will 
also cheat him of his wages, sell him drugged liquor, 
steal the very clothes from off his body, and scorn him 
at the end of it. 

The seaman knows he is never safe except at sea, 
where the rules of the brotherhood of the sea encompass 
him. Of that simple and generous code the people on 
shore are wholly ignorant. That all seamen are bound 
to help one another in distress is the first and greatest 
rule, and its other name is charity. With hazard of 
life and gear, with money or with goods, with food and 
drink, it is all one. When a man dies on shore, his 
neighbours gather together to relish the pageant of the 
funeral. When a man is killed at sea, his mates remark 
that poor old Bill is gone, and they hold an auction of 
his possessions at the foot of the foremast, and each 
man bids as high as he can, and then they send all the 
money to the widow. 



xiv PREFATORY NOTE 

If you met an officer of the Mercantile Marine in the 
street clad in his shore-going clothes, you would hardly 
guess that this grave gentleman with the quiet voice and 
the look, at once brooding and vigilant, as of one beset 
with multitudinous cares, and meeting them carefully, 
is a seaman — so widely does popular conception differ 
from reality. But in truth, from the master of a tug 
to the master of a liner, from the officer of an ocean- 
going steamship to the mate of a collier, runs a scale of 
infinite gradations. What is common to all is the 
indefinable spirit of their calling, the spirit which you 
shall see in action in the pages of this book. 

One of its manifestations is the economy of the ship. 
A ship may be a noble piece of design, or it may be as 
destitute of imagination as a warehouse. In other words, 
the ship may be built by men, or it may be constructed 
by the semblances of men who have sold their immortal 
part for money. But, beautiful or ugly, the ship is 
nothing but a vehicle. It is a far finer vehicle than a 
railway locomotive, partly by reason of its immemorial 
and romantic history, and partly by reason of the sen- 
tience which mysteriously belongs to a ship, and which 
makes her, to the seaman, a person; but a vehicle she 
remains. 

But inasmuch as she carries a community set apart 
and exiled from its fellows, with a common task to 
achieve, the community is organised into a society in 
which every man has his allotted business, and in which 
all are subject to the supreme command of the master. 
The reason why the society is thus organised is simple; 
it is because the institution of discipline is the essential 
condition of the accomplishment of a common enter- 
prise. Far back along the centuries, when men believed 
that their chief enterprise was, not to make money 
but, to get to Heaven, the economy of the ship was the 
economy of Holy Church. The master was called the 
Rector; and riding high on the rail of the poop was a 
consecrated shrine, to which every man did obeisance 
when he stepped on deck. The custom survives in the 
Royal Navy, in which the Service man still salutes the 
quarterdeck when he comes on board. (The civilian, 



PREFATORY NOTE xv 

unconscious of high matters and with no desire to offend, 
will drop matches on the quarterdeck and wear his hat 
between decks.) 

The principle of the economy of a ship, whether she 
be a King's ship or a trader, is the principle of service, 
which is the principle of chivalry. It is written that a 
man cannot serve God and mammon. But he must 
serve one or the other. He was bound to service when 
he was born; the only liberty he owns is the liberty 
to choose his master; and, by a divine paradox, the one 
choice will give him liberty and the other slavery. 
And the man who serves on board ship perforce serves 
another than himself, and so far he has found freedom. 

The discipline in a merchant ship is in part a matter 
of law, and in greater part an affair of tradition and of 
the personality of the master. The instinct of service 
is a part of the nature of the English. It is usually 
described as the love of freedom, which, in fact, it is. 
Thus the instinct towards servitude, or submission to 
tyranny, is the exact opposite to the instinct of service. 
Oppress the Englishman, and sooner or later he will 
rebel. Ask him to serve you, deal with him honestly, 
and he will be staunch through thick and thin. 

And at this point arises the question of material 
recompense. During the war, the pay of the merchant 
seaman (not of the officers) has been doubled. That 
the additional wage made an inducement to encounter 
the hazards of war is, of course, the fact. But when 
the fighting begins, or the hidden blow is struck, it is 
not money that holds the seaman to his duty. Moreover, 
before the war, the seaman's pay was both inadequate 
and inequitable, nor was there any provision for securing 
him stability of employment, nor did he earn a pension. 

When war was declared, it was the duty of the mer- 
chant seaman to carry supplies and munitions across 
the seas. Upon his faithful discharge of that duty all 
depended. 

At first, the dangers menacing the Mercantile Marine 
were mines and hostile cruisers. It does not seem to 
have occurred to the authorities that the er.i'jaj would 
attack unarmed merchant vessels with submarines. 



xvi PREFATORY NOTE 

And in due time the submarine took the world by sur- 
prise. Thenceforth the merchant seaman must sail at 
the hazard of a deadly peril which might come unawares, 
and against which, in any case, he was at first utterly 
defenceless. He must navigate unlighted channels amid 
unlighted ships. He must steer new courses and learn 
the art of war. He never failed nor flinched. And you 
shall mark in these chronicles the merchant seaman, 
beginning unarmed and helpless, stumbling over mines, 
attacked by raiding cruisers, torpedoed or shot to pieces 
by submarines, sent adrift to go mad or drown in open 
boats, still sturdily going undaunted about his business, 
and gradually becoming a wary and valorous fighting 
man. He is the same merchant seaman who, but three 
years since, was the drudge of commerce, and who now 
in his own right is entered on the chivalry of the sea. 



The Mine 

The episode to be related occurred during 
the first weeks of the war, ere the mercantile 
marine understood what was happening, or 
perceived what might happen. To-day a 
mercantile marine master, attired in the uni- 
form of his Majesty's Service, fetching up in 
port, will casually remark to a brother mariner, 
also disguised in uniform, that a day or two 
since he saw a vessel torpedoed a couple of 
cables' length ahead of him. "Shut up like a 
box, she did, and sank at once. And if the 
submarine hadn't been so greedy she could have 
had me instead." Whxch brief tale of the sea 
his friend receives in a genial silence, presently 
broken by a request not to forget to let him have 
that six fathoms of eight-inch hawser, what- 
ever he does. To-day the merchant skipper, 
navigating at night in home waters, finds his 
way, as he says, by "putting his hand out to 
feel." But what the seaman calls the Eeligion 
of the Sea stands now as before the war. It 
consists in the simple faith that what will be, 
will be; with the corollary that land and sea 

17 



18 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

are equally dangerous and equally safe. A new 
illustration of an old story occurred the other 
day when a seaman, having been torpedoed out 
of his ship, came to a sailors ' home, went out for 
a stroll, was knocked down by an omnibus, and 
indignantly called his Maker to witness that he 
had always said the sea was safer than the land. 

So, upon a day in the first weeks of the war, 
the steamship Runo was placidly gliding north- 
wards upon a gently heaving sea. Early that 
morning the Runo had left port. The master 
was on the bridge, and there he remained, while 
the officers stood their watches and relieved one 
another according to routine. The master had 
been busy until late into the preceding night, 
embarking the passengers; and about two 
o'clock in the afternoon, having been on the 
bridge for eight or nine hours, he went to the 
chart-room on the bridge deck and lay down on 
the sofa to get a spell of sleep. 

At four o'clock the officer on watch was re- 
lieved by the chief officer. As he stood on the 
bridge he saw away on his left hand the haze 
shrouding the highlands of the coast, and two 
or three trawlers, printed dark upon the water 
in the clear light of the autumn afternoon, 
and beyond, the gently heaving sea stretching 
vacant to the horizon. The passengers were 
huddled in silent groups along the promenade 
deck, on either side of the house, or lay sick and 
silent below. It occurred to the second officer, 
who had finished his watch, to go down to the 
forehold to look at his bicycle. Two able 
seamen, seated on a skylight, were working the 



THE MINE 19 

pump fixed on the after end of the engine-room 
casing, pumping water into the galley. In the 
chart-room, within call of the bridge, and 
so instantly available, the captain lay asleep. 
There was no sound save the steady beat of 
the engines. 

As a measure of precaution, additional boats 
had been provided, and there was enough boat 
accommodation for all on board. Four boats, 
two on either side, were swung outboard from 
the davits, and the rest of the boats were on 
chocks on deck. The value of boats in saving 
life depends first of all upon the ability of 
their crews in getting them away from the ship. 
If the crews are practised, and the passengers 
are under control, in smooth weather the opera- 
tion should be successfully accomplished. 

The chief officer on watch on the bridge had 
noted that the clock told half -past four, when 
he was shot into the air, fell heavily to the deck, 
where he lay unconscious, a grating on the top 
of him. The man at the wheel saw a huge 
column of water rise alongside, as he was flung 
down and sandwiched between two gratings. At 
the same moment the two compasses and every 
other fitting on the bridge were broken to pieces. 
The second officer, down in the forehold attend- 
ing to his bicycle, was conscious of a tremendous 
explosion, which dashed him upwards against 
the ceiling, whence he dropped stunned. The 
able seamen sitting on the skylight, who were 
working the pump, were flung upon the deck. 
Picking themselves up, they climbed instantly 
upon the top of the engine-room casing, port 



20 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

side, where was the boat to which they were al- 
lotted. It was already filled with frightened 
passengers. The seamen helped to launch the 
boat, then went to help the passengers embark 
in the boat on the starboard side. The third 
engineer, who had come on deck, was pitched 
into the water, where he remained until he was 
rescued by one of the boats. 

In the meantime the captain in the chart- 
house was hurled up from the sofa, struck the 
ceiling, and rebounded down upon the table 
amid a cascade of splintered glass, and lay there 
bleeding and unconscious. But in three or four 
minutes he came to himself, and, battered as he 
was, with the seaman's unfailing instinct to get 
on deck in a crisis, he staggered to the bridge. 
Blood was running down his face and dripped 
from a gash in his arm. By this time the chief 
officer and the steersman were on their feet 
again; the ship was still forging on, but at the 
same time settling ominously down by the 
head; and in the water were boats and swim- 
mers, from whom the ship was receding. The 
master, seeing the people in the water, put the 
helm over hard a-starboard to turn the ship in 
their direction. He issued orders to stop the 
engines, to hoist the distress signal, and blew 
the siren to call the trawlers near by. He sent 
the chief officer to muster the passengers and 
to launch the remaining boats. 

About ten minutes had elapsed since the ex- 
plosion, and in those minutes a great deal had 
happened. Below in the engine-room the en- 
gine-room staff, at the impact of the explosion, 



THE MINE 21 

felt a sudden heel to port, and a sensation as 
if the ship had ran against a stone wall. The 
second engineer said that "it was just like going 
into a stone wall. It was a sudden thud and a 
stop." For a few minutes no order came from 
the bridge, so that the chief engineer did not 
touch the engines, which continued working at 
full speed. Thus, while the captain, the chief 
officer and the man at the wheel, and the second 
officer in the forehold were all lying prostrate, 
the engine-room staff remained below, in sus- 
pense, awaiting orders. The brief disability of 
the ship's officers had no other effect upon the 
engine-room; but it disastrously affected the 
passengers. The whole mass of them, filled 
with panic terror, scrambled for the boats. By 
the time the master and the chief officer had 
regained their senses it was too late. 

The boat resting on chocks on the engine- 
room casing, port side, to which the two seamen 
had sprung instantly after the explosion, was 
indeed orderly rilled with the stewardess and 
women passengers, twenty-six in all, and the 
chief officer having by that time come to her, she 
was swung out, lowered and cast off in a sea- 
manlike manner. But in the meantime the alley- 
ways were choked with struggling passengers, 
through whom the seamen could not force their 
way to the boats. Such was the general posi- 
tion. The details are obscure, but it seems evi- 
dent that the foremost boat on the starboard 
side, which had been filled with water by the 
explosion, was somehow emptied, hoisted from 
its chocks and lowered into the water by the 



22 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

stewards and the passengers. Why she went 
away with no more than two passengers in her, 
and why neither passengers nor boat were ever 
seen again, are not known. 

The stewards and passengers between them 
lowered fonr more boats. Of one they cnt the 
falls, so that the boat dropped, hanging along- 
side by the painter, and filled with water. The 
people were somehow hauled on board again. 
Of another they cnt the foremost falls, bnt 
nevertheless the boat was safely got away, with 
one able seaman and thirty to thirty-five pas- 
sengers on board, none of whom was ever seen 
again. Another boat, carrying twenty or thirty 
people, capsized. Some of these passengers 
kept themselves afloat, and these were the peo- 
ple whom the master saw when he came on 
the bridge and pnt the helm over in order to 
save them. Some were picked up. The last of 
the four boats to be lowered by the confused 
mob of stewards and passengers went away full 
of people, who were never seen again. 

By this time the engines had been stopped, 
and the ship was gradually settling down, the 
main hold being half full of water. The master 
perceiving that, in answer to his signal, two 
steam trawlers were coming up, ordered that no 
more boats were to be lowered, and shouted 
through a megaphone to the trawlers to pick up 
the people in the water. The trawlers, having 
saved a number of the swimmers, drew along- 
side, one on either side the quarter. It was then 
about twenty-five minutes from the time of the 
explosion. The whole of the rest of the people 



THE MINE 23 

on board the Runo were then transhipped to the 
trawlers. 

The master was the last to leave his ship. 
She was obviously sinking, but the master de- 
termined to beach her if possible, and requested 
the skipper of the trawler to take her in tow. 
Two men of the Runo and two of the trawler's 
crew went in the trawler's boat to the Runo 
with a hawser, made it fast, and remained on 
board the Runo. For all they knew she might 
have gone down under their feet. And as soon 
as the hawser tightened a noise like thunder 
echoed in the bowels of the Runo. The bulk- 
head of the main hold had collapsed under the 
weight of water, and the Runo began to dip her 
nose deeper. The master of the Runo instantly 
signalled from the trawler ordering the four 
men to return to her. These resolute seamen 
promptly cut the hawser, tumbled into their 
boat, cast off and pulled away. Scarce were 
they clear of the doomed ship when she plunged 
by the head, and the sea closed over her. It 
was about an hour and forty minutes since she 
had struck the mine. 

The next day, Sunday, the skipper of a 
trawler cruising in that place perceived a wide 
litter of floating wreckage and boats floating 
bottom upwards. He counted eight boats, all 
of which were capsized except one, which was 
full of water. The skipper picked up a 
meat chest, a chest full of books, and a cork 
jacket. 

What became of the passengers who went 
away in the boats? Those who were in the 



m THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

first boat, launched under the orders of the 
chief officer, were picked up by a trawler. The 
boat which had a couple of passengers on board 
simply vanished. Two boats which went away 
full of people were afterwards recovered empty. 
What had become of the passengers? The sea 
was calm, and the boats were within a few 
miles of the land when they left the ship. The 
people in them had nothing to do but to sit 
still, and they would have been rescued. Yet 
they simply disappeared. 



n 

The Submarine 

In the grey noon of an October day the 
Glitra, an old, small iron steamship, was ap- 
proaching the harbour of a neutral country, 
whose tall headlands loomed ahead. So far the 
master, following the directions of the Ad- 
miralty, had brought his ship scathless. Within 
an hour or two she would be safe. 

The master and the chief officer were on the 
bridge, and an able seaman was posted as look- 
out on the forecastle head. Up went the flag 
calling for a pilot, and presently the master des- 
cried the pilot's motor-boat swiftly approach- 
ing from the shore. At the same moment he 
perceived a long and low object moving towards 
him on the water some three miles to seaward. 
The apparition was like a blow over the heart 
to the men of the Glitra. But it might be a 
British submarine. The master, staring through 
his glass at the flag flying from the short mast 
of the nearing vessel, made out the black Ger- 
man eagles. The pilot saw them too, for he 
went about, heading back to harbour ; and with 

25 



26 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

him the men of the Glitra beheld their last hope 
for the ship implacably receding, and confronted 
the inevitable with the dogged composure of 
the British seaman. 

The master altered course, steering away 
from the submarine, which, fetching a wide 
circle, drew towards the Glitra. The subma- 
rine had the speed of the old cargo-boat, and as 
she came closer the master heard the metallic 
ring of tube-firing, and a flight of small shot 
sang about his ears. Thereupon he stopped his 
engines, and the Glitra lay still, while the sub- 
marine drew nearer and stopped within a ship 's 
length of the steamer. There she lay, the water 
lipping on the rounded hull, from which the 
conning-tower rose amidships. The command- 
ing officer stood by the rail of the conning-tower, 
and men were descending thence to the narrow 
platforms fore and aft, and busying themselves 
on the deck. Then the submarine hoisted the 
code signal, meaning ' i drag-rope " ; and the 
men on board the Glitra saw the Germans get a 
collapsible boat into the water. Two men 
pulled, and a third sat in the stern-sheets. 

The men of the Glitra awaited events in 
silence ; and the next thing of which the master 
was acutely conscious was the cold muzzle of 
a revolver pressing into the flesh of his neck, 
while the excited German officer wielding that 
weapon ordered him in throaty but intelligible 
English to leave his bridge and to get his boats 
away in ten minutes, as his ship was to be 
torpedoed. 

The master, going down on deck with a 



THE SUBMARINE 27 

disagreeable sensation as of a pistol aimed at 
his back, mustered the silent crew, who assem- 
bled under the hard eyes of three Germans cov- 
ering them with revolvers, and who at the same 
time beheld two guns on the submarine, one for- 
ward and the other aft of the conning-tower, 
trained expectantly upon the ship. Then the 
master, looking directly at the small black circle 
of the revolver's muzzle, was ordered to haul 
down his flag. Still followed by the revolver, 
he went to the halliards and dropped the flag 
to the rail, over which it hung drooping and dis- 
consolate. And then he was ordered to fetch 
the ship's papers, which are the most sacred 
trust of the master of a vessel. Down below he 
went, with the pistol at his back ; and no sooner 
had he vanished down the companion-way than 
the German officer seized the flag, tore it across 
and across, flung the pieces on the deck, and 
stamped upon them like a maniac. The master 
came on deck to witness the remarkable spec- 
tacle of an officer of H.I.M. Imperial Navy wip- 
ing his sea-boots on the Eed Ensign. 

The German, having thus gratified his emo- 
tions, again turned his revolver on the master, 
ordered him to hand over the ship 's papers, for- 
bade him to fetch his coat, and refused to allow 
the crew, who were sullenly launching the three 
boats, to get any additional clothing. Then the 
German officer ordered the three boats to pull 
to the submarine and to make fast to her. 

The men of the Glitra, fetching up alongside 
the submarine, gazed curiously upon the dull, 
rigid faces of the German bluejackets, and 



28 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

marked the strange and ugly forms of the 
Tinfish, as the merchant service calls it. So 
soon as the boats were made fast, the subma- 
rine, with a grinding noise like the working of 
millstones, drew off about a ship's length, tow- 
ing the boats, and stopped again. During this 
time the master, scanning his lost ship intently, 
saw the three Germans left on board her hurry- 
ing to and fro, taking his charts and compasses 
and lowering them into their own boat. Then 
one of them, supposed by the master to be an 
engineer, went below. Presumably the German 
turned on the sea-cocks, for the master pres- 
ently observed the Glitra to be settling down 
by the stern. 

It was then about a quarter of an hour since 
the crew had quitted the Glitra; and the com- 
manding officer of the submarine ordered themas- 
ter to cast ofT and to proceed towards the land. 

As the boats drew away from his ship, lying 
deserted and sinking lower into the water, the 
master, watching, perceived the dim shape of 
the submarine still circling about her, like a 
sea-beast of prey. Gradually the boats drew 
out of sight of the last scene. 

The men had been rowing for about an hour 
when the pilot-boat came up and took them in 
tow. Then the men of the Glitra were taken on 
board a neutral ship of war. The master of 
the Glitra and the crew, thus stranded in a for- 
eign man-of-war with nothing in the world ex- 
cept what they had on, heard the growl of guns 
rolling from seaward, where the submarine was 
working her will on the desolate ship. 



THE SUBMARINE 29 

The capture and destruction of the Glitra 
marks an early stage in the evolution of the 
German pirate. The destruction of the ship in 
default of having brought her before the Prize 
Court of the enemy, was a violation of inter- 
national law, which might, however, be defended 
on the plea of necessity. The refusal to permit 
officers and men to take with them their effects 
was an infraction both of universal rule and of 
the German Naval Prize Begulations of 1914. 
On the other hand, it may be contended that 
the enemy did in fact place the crew of the 
captured ship in safety. 

The British were threatened with revolvers, 
and guns were trained upon them, but these 
weapons were not fired, and no one was injured. 
In his later stages the German pirate observed 
no such restraint. As for the insult to the 
British flag, while it may have been the result 
of an unpleasant personal idiosyncrasy, it is 
also significant of a mental condition prevailing 
among German officers, of which examples sub- 
sequently multiplied. 



Ill 

"War is War" 

On November 23rd, 1914, the little cargo- 
boat Malachite, four days out from Liverpool, 
was drawing near to the French coast. It was 
a quarter to four in the afternoon; the ship, 
rolling gently to the easterly swell, was within 
an hour or so of Havre, which lay out of sight 
beyond Cape La Heve, darkening in the haze 
some four miles distant on the port bow. The 
master and the mate, who were on the bridge, 
descried the indistinct form of a long and low 
vessel lying about two miles away on the star- 
board beam. As they looked, the mist clinging 
about the unknown craft lit with a flash, fol- 
lowed by the report of a gun, and a shot sang 
across the bows of the Malachite. Then the two 
officers on the bridge recognised the vessel to be 
a German submarine. The first that the men 
below in the engine-room knew was the clang 
of the bridge-telegraph and the swinging over 
of the needle on the dial to ' l stop. ' ' They eased 
down the engines, and as the ship lost way, they 
heard two long blasts of the steam whistle 

30 



"WAR IS WAR" 31 

sounded on the bridge. Then silence, the ship 
rolling where she lay. 

The master and the mate, standing against 
the bridge-rail, contemplated the approach of 
the submarine. The German officer and the 
quartermaster were on the conning-tower. 
Abaft of the conning-tower, on deck, a seaman 
stood beside a small gun, which was fitted with 
a shoulder-piece. The submarine drew close 
alongside the Malachite, and her officers looked 
down into the eyes of the German naval officer, 
and the German naval officer looked up at the 
two British seamen. These knew well enough 
what to expect, and merely wondered in what 
manner it would arrive. 

The German officer was polite but business- 
like. Where have you come from? Where 
are you going? What is your cargo? These 
were his questions, framed in that school Eng- 
lish which for many years every German mid- 
shipman has learned as part of his pass exam- 
ination, in order that he may communicate with 
the conquered race of Britain. 

The master gave the required information. 
He could do nothing else. Then the submarine 
officer gave an order, and a sailor ran along the 
deck of the submarine and hoisted the German 
ensign on the short mast mounted aft. All be- 
ing now in order, the submarine officer requested 
the master of the Malachite to prepare to leave 
his ship at the expiration of ten minutes, and 
to bring with him the ship 's papers. 

The master, mustering the crew, got away 
the two lifeboats, and fetched his papers. The 



32 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

two boats came alongside the submarine; and 
now the submarine officer gazed down at the 
stolid British seamen, who were utterly in his 
power, and they stared curiously up at the trim 
and easy German. 

The master, handing over his papers, since 
there was no help for it, asked that the ship's 
log and the articles might be given back to him. 
The submarine officer declined to grant the re- 
quest. Then he added, ' ' I am sorry I cannot ac- 
commodate you and your crew, but war is war. ' ' 

Then he told the master to stand clear, and 
as the two boats hauled off, the submarine got 
under way. The men in the boats, resting on 
their oars, saw the submarine open fire on the 
Malachite at a range of about 200 yards, saw 
the shot strike the ship at the base of the funnel, 
and a hissing cloud of steam and smoke en- 
shroud her, saw shot after shot pierce the hull, 
and the ship beginning to settle down by the 
head. 

Darkness was gathering, and the fog was 
closing in, when the master ordered the men to 
give way, and steered towards Havre. As they 
pulled through the gloom, the men in the boats 
heard the intermittent bark of the gun sounding 
from seaward. After about three-quarters of 
an hour there was silence. 

They came into Havre Harbour at half-past 
eight, after a pull of some three and a half 
hours. Subsequently they learned that the sub- 
marine, having fired the ship, left her, and that 
she remained afloat all that night and the next day. 

The taking of the Malachite is typical of the 



"WAR IS WAR" S3 

end of the first phase of submarine warfare ; the 
phase in which the German officer, individual 
acts of brutality apart, at least recognised the 
existence of the law of nations, used a certain 
consideration for the crews of captured vessels, 
and was occasionally even courteous. On the 
other side, merchant ships were still totally de- 
fenceless ; and sometimes, as in the case of the 
Malachite, were taken within sight of land and 
close to a port of arrival. 

In the next phase of submarine warfare, war 
was still war, but it was also murder. At the 
beginning of February, 1915, Germany issued 
the following official announcement: 

(1) "The waters round Great Britain and 
Ireland, including the English Channel, are 
hereby declared a military area. From Febru- 
ary 18th every hostile merchant ship in these 
waters will be destroyed, even if it is not always 
possible to avoid thereby the dangers which 
threaten the crews and passengers. 

(2) "Neutral ships will also incur danger in 
the military area, because, in view of the misuse 
of flags ordered by the British Government on 
January 31st and the accidents of naval war- 
fare, it cannot always be avoided that attacks 
may involve neutral ships. 

(3) "Traffic northwards around the Shetland 
Islands, in the east part of the North Sea, and 
a strip of at least thirty sea miles in breadth 
along the coast of Holland is not endangered. 

"(Sgd.) VonPohl, 
"Chief of Admiralty Staff." 



34. THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

To which laborious threat the British For- 
eign Office, on February 7th, 1915, replied by- 
stating that the use of a neutral flag by a bellig- 
erent, within prescribed limitations, was per- 
fectly legitimate, adding the extremely perti- 
nent declaration that : 

" To destroy ship, non-combatant crew and 
cargo, as Germany has announced her intention 
of doing, is nothing less than an act of piracy 
on the high seas." 

The Foreign Office does not specifically brand 
the Imperial German Government as a pirate; 
it declares that the doings of the public ships 
of the Imperial German Government are acts 
of piracy. It is hard to trace the distinction, 
if indeed there be a distinction. The President 
of the United States, in his message to Congress 
of April 2nd, 1917, does in effect state that the 
Imperial German Government is hostis humani 
generis y which is the definition of a pirate. His 
Majesty's Attorney-General, Sir Frederick 
Smith, K.C., in his book "The Destruction of 
Merchant Ships under International Law" (J. 
M. Dent & Sons, London, 1917), states his con- 
clusion as follows: "The very use of subma- 
rines against merchantmen — even against ene- 
my merchantmen, as has been shown above — 
is unlawful. All — belligerents and neutrals 
alike — who have suffered loss in lives or prop- 
erty as a result of this unlawful conduct are 
entitled to full reparation." 

And what about the merchant seamen, shat- 
tered, mutilated and drowned in pursuance of 
their lawful occasions? This at least; that, 



"WAR IS WAR" 35 

while they endured and perished, a gigantic 
storm of wrath was formidably gathering below 
their horizon, the wrath of all other sea nations, 
brooding upon Germany and Austria, and 
charged with a vengeance insatiable as the sea. 

The Germans, inherently treacherous, have 
no notion of keeping their word, and they be- 
gan, as usual, before the scheduled time. While 
Admiral von Pohl, majestically ensconced in 
the Reichsmarineamt in Berlin, was methodi- 
cally inditing his lying accusation of the misuse 
of the neutral flag by the British, a German 
submarine (it was reported) was cruising about 
the English Channel flying the French flag. 
That was before January 30th, 1915 ; the Ger- 
man proclamation of "military" murder 
"area" was not issued until a day or two after- 
wards, and therein it was stated that the new 
arrangements were to begin on February 18th. 
The ToJcomaru was sunk on January 30th. 

She was a steamship of nearly 4,000 tons reg- 
ister, had left Wellington, New Zealand, three 
weeks previously, on January 22nd, and had 
touched at Teneriffe, which port was swarming 
with Germans. The ToJcomaru lay at Teneriffe 
for eleven hours, during which time many shore 
boats came alongside. The visitors could easily 
have ascertained her destination. Whether or 
not that circumstance was related to her de- 
structionisnotknown. Teneriffe belongs to Spain. 

Like the Malachite, the Tokomaru was bound 
for Havre. Off Ushant she spoke a French 
man-of-war, giving her name and destination. 



36 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

At about nine o 'clock on the morning of Satur- 
day, January 30th, 1915, she was within seven 
miles of the Havre lightship. Somewhere on 
the seafloor beneath the Tokomaru's keel lay 
the bones of the Malachite. It was a fine, clear 
morning, the land mistily sparkling beyond the 
shining levels of the sea. Some of the crew 
were busy about the anchors, preparing to moor. 
The master and the second and third officers 
were on the bridge. An able seaman was posted 
on the forecastle head, looking out. Between 
the ship and the shore a French trawler was 
steaming about her business. 

Without any sign or warning a tremendous 
blow struck the ship on the port side with a loud 
explosion, and a column of water, rising to the 
height of the funnels, descended bodily upon 
the three officers on the bridge, swept along the 
decks, poured down the companion-ways, and 
filled up the stokehold. The ship leaned over 
to port, and officers and men felt her settling 
down under their feet. 

Several things happened simultaneously. The 
master, cool and composed, looking seaward, 
perceived a little hooded dark object cleaving 
the surface about 600 yards away on the port 
beam, and, making a path from it to the ship, 
irregular, eddying patches of foam. There, 
then, was the submarine and there was the track 
of her torpedo, ending in a spreading inky patch 
of water about the ship, where the sea was 
washing the coal out of the bunkers. Even as 
the master ordered the boats to be manned, the 
periscope of the submarine disappeared. At 



"WAR IS WAR" 37 

the same time the wireless operator, shut up in 
his room, was making the S.O.S. signal, and 
the French trawler in the distance began to 
steam at full speed towards the ship. 

Owing to the list of the vessel the falls of the 
boats jammed. The crew cut the ropes, ham- 
mered away the chocks, and stood by, quietly 
awaiting the order to launch. They were all 
wet through, for those on deck had been smoth- 
ered in the falling water, and those below had 
struggled up the ladders against descending 
torrents. There they stood, the deck dropping 
by inches beneath their feet, and tilting towards 
the bows, until the sea was washing over the 
forecastle head, when the master ordered them 
into the boats. The master was the last to leave 
the ship. His cabin being full of water, he was 
unable to save the ship's papers and money. 
Sixty-two pounds belonging to the owners, and 
about seventeen pounds belonging to the master 
himself, were lost. 

By this time the French trawler had come up, 
and the officers and men, fifty-eight all told, 
were taken on board. The trawler stood by, 
while a flotilla of French torpedo-boats, arriv- 
ing from Havre with several trawlers, steamed 
swiftly in circles round the sinking ship, in or- 
der to guard against a renewed attack. 

At half-past ten, about an hour and a half 
after she was torpedoed, the ToJcomaru, with 
her cargo of general goods and fruit, went down 
in a great swirl of water. When it had sub- 
sided, the trawler moored a buoy over the spot, 
and took the ToJcomaru' s people into Havre. 



38 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

Then and there the master must begin his 
dreary task of communicating with the British 
Consul, and with his owners. And then mes- 
sages in cypher sped over the cables to the For- 
eign Office, to the Admiralty, and to all con- 
cerned, altogether a surprising number of per- 
sons ; while the German submarine sped on her 
evil way, invisible. 

Eleven days afterwards a lifebuoy, painted 
white, and inscribed with the legend "S.S. To- 
komaru, Southampton,' ' was picked up off 
Dover. 



The Last Chance 

Eaely on the morning of July 4th, 1915, a 
certain wireless station on shore took in and 
recorded a conversation which was being car- 
ried on between a vessel, the Anglo -Calif ornian, 
in the North Atlantic, flying for her life, and 
three of his Majesty's ships which were rushing 
to her rescue. Figure to yourself the wireless 
operator, a staunch youth, in his narrow room 
abaft the bridge and exposed to fire, the ear- 
pieces hooped over his head, making and taking 
in messages amid the incessant detonation of 
guns, the crash of striking shots, cries, the 
pounding of feet along the decks, and the scream 
of wounded animals piercing from below. And 
picture, out of sight of the Anglo-Calif ornian, 
three men-of-war foaming towards her, and in 
the wireless room of each a tiny cabin opening 
from the deck, a young bluejacket intensely oc- 
cupied . . . And rapt in the same business, the 
operator in the wireless station on shore. And 
wherever the aerials pattern the sky, on sea or 
land, the same words or part of them, so far as 
the vibrations extend, flow into human cogni- 
sance. 



40 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

The Anglo-Calif omian, at 8.43 a.m. to Any- 
one: "S.O.S., S.O.S. Being chased by subma- 
rine, S.O.S." Then he gave the position of the 
ship. No answer recorded. Twenty minutes 
later A.-C. again gave position, adding, "Go 
ahead. He is being led a dance and it is O.K. 
to work for a few minutes. Now altering 

course to south." Then "Are you ? He is 

rapidly overtaking us." 

Answer from the void: "Steer" (so-and-so) 
"and keep me informed." 

A.-C: "That is impossible. We are being 
fired on" 

Answer: "Where is submarine?" 

A -C : ' ' Now astern. ' ' 

Answer: "Endeavour carry out instructions 
— important. ' ' 

A.-C: "Can't — he is now on top of us and I 
can hear his shots hitting us. ' ' 

Answer : ' ' On your port 1 ' ' 

A.-C: "Submarine on top of us and hitting 
us." Then, "Captain says steering" (so-and- 
so) "if he alters course will endanger ship." 

Answer: A code message, followed first by a 
conversation which told that more than one 
man-of-war was answering the A.-C, and sec- 
ondly by an order. 

A.-C: "If we steer east we shall have sub- 
marine a-beam. We can't do it." 

Answer: "Please give your speed," 

which was given, with A.-C.'s position, and col- 
our of her funnels. A.-C added, i ' Can see your 
smoke, hold on." 



THE LAST CHANCE 41 

Answer: " According to your position I am 
nine miles off you." 

A.-C: "We are the transport Anglo-Cali- 
fornian." 

Answer: "Have you many passengers?" 

A.-C: "No, but we are 150 men on board 
as crew." 

Answer: "Please fire rocket to verify posi- 
tion." Followed by a conversation on the sub- 
ject. 

Answer: "What is position of submarine !" 

A .-C : l l Eight astern firing at wireless. ' ' 

Answer: "Let me have your position fre- 
quently. ' ' 

A.-C: "Now firing our rockets," followed 
by information as to position. 

This was at 10.9, and at 10.12, that is, when 
the chase and attack had lasted for an hour 
and a half, the Anglo-Califomicm made, 

"Submarine signals abandon vessel as soon 
as possible." 

The answer was an order, to be carried out as 
"a last resource." 

A.-C: "No, no, she is too close." 

Then the conversation became in the stress 
of the moment even more like mediumistic com- 
munications. The record runs : 

A.-C: "We are stopped. Can see you." 
(Or, "Can you see?") 

Answer: "Stopped and blowing off. Can 
see you distinctly. Am about S.W. from you, 
hold on." 

A.-C: "In what direction? He is on the 
port side. We are between you and him. 



42 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

Hurry, hurry, hurry. He is getting abeam to 
torpedo us." 

Answe r: "I am coming. ' ' 

A.-C: "We are keeping him astern now." 

(?) Answer: "O.K. Endeavour to keep his 
attention. ' ' 

Answer: "You will be quite safe when (il- 
legible)." 

A.-C: "Steering zig-zag." Followed by 
questions and answers as to course and number 
of masts of the Anglo-Californian, in the midst 
of which A.-C. interjected, "For God's sake 
hurry up. What gone ? Firing like blazes, ' ' and 
"Keeping him astern. Hurry up." 

Answer: "We are firing, can you inform re- 
sult?" 

A.-C: "Can hear you . . . have stopped 
. . . no, no. . . . Several being wounded . . . 
shrapnel, I believe." 

Answer: "Keep men below or those on deck 
to lay face down. ' ' 

A.-C. : "All taking shelter in front of bridge- 
houses. He is firing shell." Followed by more 
questions and answers as to masts and speed, 
then ' ' Sub. keeping pace ; he is still very close, 
within a couple of hundred yards. Captain 
wants to know if you will fire to scare him." 

Answer: "Firing to scare him; please head 
towards me." 

A.-C: "We can't; you are astern and so is 
sub. Head for us in roundabout route. ' ' 

Answer: A tactical order, and an inquiry if 
smoke can be seeu. 



THE LAST CHANCE 43 

A.-C: "Yes, yes, a long way off. Can see 
your smoke astern." 

Answer : § ' What bearing ? ' ' 

Two minutes later, after a confused inter- 
change of messages, Anglo-Calif ornian said: 
1 i They can 't tell what bearing, now sinking. ' ' 

Answer: "Are you torpedoed?" 

A.-C: "Not yet, but shots in plenty hitting. 
Broken glass all around me. Stick it, old man. ' ' 

( ?) Answer: "Yes — you bet." 

A.-C. (suddenly becoming American in lan- 
guage) : "Say, the place stinks of gunpowder, 
am lying on the floor." 

(?) Answer: "Nothing better, old man." 

(?) "Keep your pecker up, old man." 

A.-C: "Sure thing." And "Is there any- 
thing else coming to us, please?" 

Answer: "Yes, I am — coming full speed 
knots. ' ' 

A.-C: "I have had to leave 'phones. Yes, 
I say I smell gunpowder here strong and am 
lying on the floor, my gear beginning to fly 
around with concussion." 

Answer: "... smoke W.N.W. of me. There 
is a mass (?) of fight on our starboard side and 
the sub. is on our port side. ' ' 

Three minutes later, at 11.23 (two hours and 
three-quarters after the attack began), the 
Anglo-Calif ornian makes : 

"Submarine has dived. Submarine has 
dived." 

Answer: "Eeport her trail at intervals." 

A.-C: "I hope she stops down there, it is 



44 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

getting hot here," and after some remarks as 
to position, 

Answer: "Have you launched all boats?" 

A.-C: "Yes. Two ships coming, one abeam 
and one at the port quarter. Don't worry, he 
has gone dipped." 

Answer: "Has submarine gone?" 

A.-C: "Yes." 

It was now 11.42 in the forenoon, or four 
hours since the attack had opened. What had 
been happening during that time outside the 
wireless room? 

At eight o'clock in the morning the master, 
an experienced seaman of fifty-seven, was on 
the bridge, whence he sighted a submarine on 
the port beam. She flew no colours and was 
proceeding on the surface. The master in- 
stantly altered course in order to place the sub- 
marine astern of the Anglo-Calif ornian, tele- 
graphed an order to the engine-room to increase 
speed, and told our friend the wireless operator 
to send out the S.O.S. signal. As it was an- 
swered by a man-of-war, the master knew 
thenceforth that if he could hold on long enough 
he could save his ship and his very valuable 
Government cargo. Altering course contin- 
ually, he kept the submarine manoeuvring for an 
hour; but the enemy was gaining on the ship, 
and at nine o'clock the submarine opened fire. 
She mounted a gun forward of her conning- 
tower and a second gun of another calibre aft 
of the conning-tower. 

During the next half-hour men were being 
hit, there was blood on the decks, the ship was 



THE LAST CHANCE 45 

frequently struck, and splinters were flying. As 
the submarine manoeuvred to get into position 
to fire a torpedo the master of the Anglo-Cali- 
fornian twisted his ship away. As a fencer 
watches the blade of his antagonist, so the 
master fixed his gaze on the low hull, the figures 
of the officer and helmsman on the railed con- 
ning-tower, the gunners and the men firing rifles 
from the deck, all wreathed with smoke, im- 
placably determined to take his ship. 

Then the submarine hoisted the signal A.B., 
"Abandon ship." It was at this moment that 
the wireless operator signalled "Hurry, hurry, 
hurry. He is getting abeam to torpedo us." It 
appears that the submarine continued to fire 
without cessation, while the master ordered the 
engines to be stopped and the boats to be got 
away. It is certain that the crew, getting into 
the boats and hauling upon the falls, were fired 
on; that when the boats were in the water 
one was fired on; and that, in the stress and 
confusion, both boats were capsized. Then the 
submarine stopped firing. 

At the same moment the smoke of one of the 
pursuing men-of-war darkened on the horizon, 
and projectiles fired at extreme range made 
fountains about the submarine, and then it was 
that the wireless operator received a message 
from another man-of-war telling the Anglo- 
Calif ornian to hold on. 

At this the master resolved to make a last 
effort to save his ship. In the water alongside 
the men had righted the boats, and were ready 
to shove off, when the master ordered them to 



46 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

return to the ship. At first the firemen, who had 
been desperately heaving coal below, living 
from minute to minute, for more than two 
hours, hung in the wind, but they came on board 
and went below again, and once more hove coal 
into the furnaces. The engines were started, 
and as the ship gathered way the submarine 
opened fire, aiming at the bridge and the boats. 

The master's son, who was second officer, was 
standing beside his father on the bridge when a 
stunning shock flung him upon the deck, and 
when he staggered to his feet, the master was 
not there. He had been blown to pieces. The 
young man seized the wheel; the next moment 
a shot smashed a spoke; but he hung on, and 
never stirred from his post until the rescue. 
The first officer took command, and presently 
two men-of-war hove in sight and the submarine 
dived. It was then about half an hour since the 
submarine had signalled "Abandon ship." 

The master and eight men had been killed, 
and seven men had been wounded. But they 
had saved the ship. The master saved her by 
taking the last desperate chance, but himself 
he did not save. 

The Anglo-CaUfornian was escorted into the 
nearest port by the men-of-war, and after tem- 
porary repairs had been executed, she pro- 
ceeded upon her voyage. 



Small Game 

The little steamship Downshire was small 
game, but the Germans are nothing if not thor- 
ough. The case illustrates to what extent, in 
these early stages of the war, the master felt 
he could act on his own responsibility. He went 
as far as he could. The German officer, al- 
though, in sinking the Downshire, he was com- 
mitting an act of piracy, behaved with courtesy 
and consideration, and spoke "in perfect Eng- 
lish." 

The Downshire left an Irish port early in the 
afternoon of February 20th, 1915, and by half- 
past five, in a clear and calm twilight, she was 
eight or ten miles from the English coast, 
steaming at about nine knots, when the master 
perceived a submarine. The enemy vessel was 
running on the surface, nearly two miles away 
on the starboard bow, and heading for the 
Downshire. 

The master instantly altered course to bring 
the submarine astern of the Downshire, ordered 
full speed, and roused out all the men, ten in 
number. The submarine also altered course 
and began to chase, rapidly overhauling the 

47 



48 S THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

Downshire. At a range of about 400 yards the 
submarine opened fire from the machine-gun 
mounted on her deck. 

Here was a pretty situation for the peaceful 
master of a little coasting trader. He kept his 
wits about him and his eyes on the enemy ; and, 
continuing to manoeuvre his ship to put the 
submarine astern, swiftly reckoned his chances. 
People think, not in words, but in pictures, dim 
or clear. The sharper the emergency, the more 
vivid the picture. The master, never shifting 
his steady seaman's gaze from the submarine 
gaining hand over hand astern, beheld with his 
inward eye the pieces of his problem sliding 
together and slipping apart again as he bent his 
mind to fit them to a pattern. 

He foresaw the submarine, with her turn of 
speed, drawing so close alongside that, as the 
machine-gun crackled and spat, his men would 
be struck down; he foresaw the long fifteen 
miles to the nearest port, partly as measured on 
the thumb-stained chart, partly as a seascape of 
deep water, in which the submarine could ven- 
ture all the way, knowing that she could safely 
submerge at any moment ; he foresaw his ship, 
shoving for safety under continued fire for an 
hour and a half, splinters flying, men rolled on 
the deck; he may even have seen himself, 
crumpled up beside the wheel, and a darting 
vision of the ship being taken after all; he 
imagined the coiling track of a torpedo whiten- 
ing towards him, and foretasted the ultimate 
explosion ; and at the same moment he reckoned 
the chance of the torpedo striking a hull draw- 



SMALL GAME 49 

ing four feet six inches forward and ten feet six 
inches aft, and perceived that the torpedo might 
pass under the keel, and also that it might 
not. . . . 

In the meantime the submarine was still gain- 
ing on the Downshire. She fired a second shot. 
The master, with his problem now resolved into 
a grim pattern whose significance was impera- 
tive and inexorable, may or may not have con- 
sidered the possibility of ramming the subma- 
rine. He had no instructions on the subject. 
But if he did consider that possibility, he must 
also have foreseen that if he failed in the at- 
tempt, the submarine would certainly try to tor- 
pedo him. If the torpedo hit, all was over. If 
it missed, the enemy would give no quarter. 

The submarine fired a third shot at close 
range. That settled it. The master had held 
on as long as he could. Utterly defenceless as 
he was, he had not yielded at the first shot, nor 
the second, nor until he saw that the submarine 
had the speed of him. He stopped the engines. 
The Downshire drifted on, losing speed, and lay 
rolling slightly, while the submarine, drawing 
up to within fifty yards of the port quarter, 
stopped also. 

The Downshire 9 s firemen, who had been fu- 
riously heaving coal, momently expecting the 
next shot to crash into the engine-room and 
very likely cut the main steampipe, came on 
deck, black, sweating and sullen. 

The German submarine officer, addressing the 
Downshire "in perfect English' ' from his con- 
ning-tower, courteously issued his orders. The 



50 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

crew of the Downshire were to take to their 
boats, and the master was to bring the ship's 
papers to the submarine. (They could have 
given small satisfaction to the German, for the 
Downshire' s sole cargo was five tons of empty 
cement bags.) 

Even at this period of the war British seamen 
knew enough of the German officer to know that 
his temper was about as calculable as the temper 
of a tiger. The crew of the Downshire launched 
their two lifeboats, pulled towards the subma- 
rine, and stared, composed and curious, at the 
strange vessel and the foreign officer. That 
personage was decisive but urbane. He re- 
gretted the necessity of his action, which, he 
said, was due to the exigencies of war. One 
boat he ordered to pull to windward. The other 
boat, in which was the master, was ordered 
alongside the submarine. The master and the 
boat's crew were taken on board, where they 
scrutinised the white faces and the stiff over- 
trained figures of the German bluejackets. 
Then the submarine officer ordered the second 
officer and the steward of the Downshire back 
into their boat, telling them to get provisions 
for the Downshire' 's men. Five men of the sub- 
marine's crew pulled the boat to the Downshire, 
and while the second officer and the steward 
were fetching provisions from below and plac- 
ing them in the boat, the Germans were occu- 
pied in fixing a bomb under the Downshire. 

These proceedings were watched in an ab- 
sorbed silence by the master and the Down- 
shire's men in the submarine, and by the men in 



SMALL GAME 51 

the second lifeboat, standing off at a little dis- 
tance. It was the execution of their ship they 
were contemplating. By this time it was evi- 
dent that no harm to themselves was intended. 

The first lifeboat, stocked with gear and pro- 
visions, returned to the submarine. The Ger- 
mans went on board, the master and the rest of 
his men embarked again, shoved off, and pulled 
away to join the second lifeboat, while the sub- 
marine got under way, drew further from the 
ship, stopped again, and waited. 

The men of the DownsJiire rowed away into 
the gathering darkness, and the submarine 
faded out of sight, and the form of the lonely 
ship grew blurred and dim. There was a flash 
of fire, the sound of a dull explosion rolled 
across the water, the distant ship plunged bows 
under and vanished. 

It was then six o'clock. The whole episode 
had lasted half an hour. Within the next half- 
hour the Downshires were picked up by two 
steam drifters. 

The treatment by the German officer of the 
officers and men of the DownsJiire shines by 
contrast with the conduct of some of his col- 
leagues. That circumstance does not alter the 
fact that, in destroying the ship and in setting 
her people adrift, he violated the law of the sea. 



VI 

1 ' Where is ' Harpalion ' ? " 

It was tea-time on board the steamship Har- 
palion proceeding up the Channel, bound for 
the United States. The third officer went to the 
bridge, the master and the Trinity House pilot 
went down to the master's cabin to tea. The 
second officer sat at tea with the engineers, and 
here follows his account of what happened. 

"We had just sat down to tea at the engi- 
neers' table, and the chief engineer was saying 
' Grace.' He had just uttered the words 'For 
what we are about to receive may the Lord make 
us truly thankful,' when there came an awful 
crash. I never saw such a smash as it caused. 
Cups and dishes were shattered to pieces, every- 
thing in the pantry was broken, and photo- 
graphs screwed into the walls fell oft' " 

So the second officer told The Times, from 
whose issue of February 25th, 1915, the passage 
is quoted. Such was the event inside the ship. 
Now let us look at it from outside, from the 
bridge of a distant man-of-war. Her command- 
ing officer, watching the Harpalion afar off, saw 
a column of water leap alongside her, then an- 

.52] 



"WHERE IS 'HARPALION'?" 53 

other, and heard the dull boom of an explosion, 
like the slamming of a heavy door in a vault, 
instantly followed by a second boom. He or- 
dered full speed and steamed towards the Har- 
palion. 

On board her, master, pilot, officers and crew 
had all tumbled up on deck, where, in a fog of 
steam and smoke, they were just in time to 
receive the descending fountain of the second 
explosion. The ship listed to port and began 
to settle by the head; it was reported to the 
master that three firemen had been killed below ; 
and he saw to seaward the periscope of a sub- 
marine. He also beheld the comfortable spec- 
tacle of a King's ship tearing towards him with 
a bone in her mouth. 

The master ordered the boats to be got away. 
One was already in the water, filled with men, 
by the time the man-of-war drew close along- 
side. Her commanding officer hailed the mas- 
ter, who instantly informed the naval officer of 
the presence of an enemy submarine. The naval 
officer assumed the conduct of affairs. He or- 
dered the boat's crew then afloat to stand by to 
help save the rest of the crew ; and immediately 
started in pursuit of the submarine, cruising 
at high speed about the Harpalion while her 
people were getting into the boats. Failing to 
find the submarine, the man-of-war returned, 
embarked the master, the pilot, the rest of the 
officers and the crew, thirty-nine all told, and 
three dead men, and let the boats drift. 

The naval officer and the master then took 
counsel together. The master thought the ship 



54 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

was sinking. The naval officer thought she was 
likely to keep afloat, but that, as the enemy 
submarine was probably hanging about, it 
would be unsafe to leave the crew in the Har- 
palion. It was therefore decided to land the 
crew. The naval officer signalled to the nearest 
naval station asking that a tug should be sent, 
and proposed that the Harpalion should be left 
anchored with lights burning, an arrangement 
which was not, in fact, carried into execution. 

The man-of-war went on to the nearest naval 
station and landed the living and the dead. 
She then reported events to her own naval sta- 
tion. The ship was torpedoed at alittle after five 
o'clock in the afternoon of Wednesday, Febru- 
ary 24th, 1915. By a quarter to six she was 
abandoned. For nearly twelve hours afterwards 
the Harpalion was lost. The naval officer was 
right; she was not sinking. If a tug was sent 
out that evening in response to the signal, she 
failed to find the Harpalion. 

But let it not be supposed that the Admiralty 
allows a ship to disappear without explanation. 
That evening and the next day, Thursday, the 
Admiralty was asking every naval station in 
the vicinity of the loss, " Where is Harpalion?" 
Station A reported trying to find Harpalion, 
incidentally reporting at the same time that 
three other vessels had been put down. Station 
B reported Harpalion derelict, anchored, lights 
burning, and later, "Cannot find, but search- 
ing." Station C replied, "Not in my district." 

Where was Harpalion? She was simply drift- 
ing about, masterless and miserable. She 



"WHERE IS 'HARPALION'?" 55 

drifted from 5.45 p.m. on Wednesday to 4 p.m. 
on Thursday. Then she was sighted by the 
steamship Ariel, whose master promptly sent 
four men on board to investigate matters. It 
was clearly a salvage case ; but in their deposi- 
tion the four gallant seamen say simply, "We 
four men got on board as prize crew." 

To be precise, a prize crew is a crew placed 
by the captor on board a vessel captured by an 
act of war. Salvage is another affair. Any 
ship succouring another vessel, derelict or 
wrecked, is entitled to claim reward from the 
owners. In the case of the Ariel and Harpalion, 
it would seem that the men of the Ariel, consid- 
ering their help to be in the nature of war serv- 
ice rather than a commercial transaction, pre- 
ferred to call themselves a prize crew. But this 
is conjecture, for the four deponents, appearing 
for a moment in the light of history, have gone 
again. There were the first officer of the Ariel, 
two able seamen and one apprentice. 

They boarded the deserted Harpalion on 
Thursday afternoon, and their own ship, the 
Ariel, went on her way short-handed. What 
they did next is not revealed, except that they 
tried to take her to Cardiff. Their situation 
was dangerous enough. The ship was full of 
water forward, and listing to port. At any 
moment a questing submarine might have sent 
her to the bottom without warning. Presum- 
ably the Prize Crew tried to get steam on her, 
but there is nothing to show that they were suc- 
cessful. If they failed, the ship was not under 
control. If they succeeded, their progress must 



56 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

have been very slow. In any case, there were 
only four men, instead of forty-one, to work a 
ship of 3,669 tons register. The chief officer 
would be on the bridge, steering and conning 
the ship, one able seaman in the stokehold, one 
in the engine-room, leaving the apprentice for 
services as requisite, such as getting meals, 
carrying messages, and doing odd jobs. 

The full story of that night on board the 
Harpalion spent by the prize crew adrift in a 
ship which they believed to be sinking, remains 
to be told. Perhaps it will never be told, like 
many another deed of the sea. 

Early on the Friday morning wind and sea 
began to rise. The Harpalion was then within 
about twenty miles of the spot upon which she 
had been torpedoed. The ship was heavily 
water-logged; the water was washing in and 
out of her, and the chief officer was unable to 
keep her head to the sea. They drifted help- 
lessly before the gale in that dark and bitter 
February morning, until eight o'clock, the hour 
at which all over the world the white ensign is 
hoisted in the quarter-deck of his Majesty's 
ships. And at that hour the men of the Harpa- 
lion descried three men-of-war surging toward 
them through the smothering sea. Two flew the 
tricolour and one the white ensign. 

The British torpedo-boat drew near and hove 
a line on board the Harpalion. The prize crew 
hauled it in, hauled in a grass rope, hauled in a 
hawser and made it fast, and the little torpedo- 
boat began to tow the dead weight of the big 
cargo-boat. The weather grew worse, and the 



"WHERE IS 'HARPALION'?" 57 

torpedo-boat, unable to make any way, was 
obliged to cast off. "We still stuck to the 
Harpalion," the prize crew deposed. They 
stuck to her all that day, in wind and sea, A 
tug came, but so heavy was the weather she 
could not get the Harpalion in tow, and so stood 
by her. Night came, and still the prize crew 
stuck to their prize. Towards midnight the 
ship was settling dangerously, and the prize 
crew were forced to conclude that they could do 
no more. At half-past eleven on that Friday 
night they went over the side into their boat, 
left the Harpalion and went on board the tug. 
They were not much too soon. Thirty-five min- 
utes afterwards the Harpalion went down. 

The tug landed the prize crew at Havre, 
where, before the vice-consul, they made a de- 
position of the shortest recording their adven- 
ture, and so went their ways. 

All that Friday the unseen eye of the Admir- 
alty had been bent upon the Harpalion. Naval 
station D having reported " Cannot find Har- 
palion/' naval station B reported "Harpalion 
picked up by Ariel," and later "Abandoned 
by Ariel." Naval station A reported "Harpa- 
lion being towed. ' ' 

Finally, on Saturday, Lloyds reported "Har- 
palion sunk." But she had floated for fifty-five 
hours after having been torpedoed. So the 
naval officer was right in his estimate. Of that 
period, she was twenty-three hours derelict, 
thirty-one-and-a-half hours in charge of the 
prize crew, and a final half -hour again derelict 
in the storm. 



VII 

Netsuke 

The stress of the long vigil was ended. No 
more the uneasy ship throbbed through the 
haunted twilight of dusk and dawn, the eyes 
upon her deck incessantly roving the restless 
field of sea, while the men below hearkened 
through the humming of the furnaces and the 
beat of the engines for the fatal detonation. All 
that fevered life was past, whelmed in the deep 
sea. There were left a profound silence, an im- 
mense desolation. 

In the midst thereof a small, tawny figure, 
naked to the waist, sat cross-legged on a little 
raft of wreckage, one tattooed arm clasping a 
pole, from whose top the flag of a torn garment 
flew to the wind. It sat as motionless as the 
carved ivory it wore at its belt. But the black 
eyes of the Japanese were open, scanning the 
wide sea-line. 

A little way off, now hidden by a wave from 
the eyes of the Japanese, now revealed, the head 
and shoulders of a seaman were bowed upon 
the stump of a broken spar. 

58 



NETSUKE 59 

Except for these two figures, there was noth- 
ing save broken water under the vast grey arch 
of the sky. 

The two castaways had passed beyond 
thought to mere endurance. The progress of 
time was naught save an intensifying misery. 
So the hours went by, and still the Japanese 
sat cross-legged on his little raft, one tattooed 
arm clasped about the pole, his flag streaming 
against the inexorable grey, his black eyes open, 
staring at the far sea-line ; while a little way off 
the seaman, prone upon his spar, rolled and 
tumbled with the swell. 

So they were sighted from a steamship; so 
rescued. When the seaman had come to life 
again he said: "When the ship was struck I 
see the little Japanese dive clear of her. After 
being drawn down and coming up again, I got 
hold of a spar and hung on to it ; and I see the 
little Japanese swimming about as lively as a 
water-chick, collecting bits of wood, gratings 
and what-not. As he got each piece he tied it 
to the rest with some line he had, though how he 
got it I couldn't say; and swimming on his raft, 
collected more pieces, and lashed the whole to- 
gether till it would bear his weight. Then he 
steps a mast, all shipshape and Bristol-fashion, 
and hoists his vest for a signal of distress. All 
this time he looks at me now and again with a 
smile. I told him not to mind me, as I could 
hang on. Then he sits himself in the midst of 
his raft like an image. Clever thing as ever I 
see. He deserved to be saved if ever, so he 
did," said the British seaman. 



60 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

The little Japanese smiled and said nothing. 

The two shipwrecked men were landed and 
were taken to that admirable and invaluable in- 
stitution, the Home of the British and Foreign 
Sailors' Society. The seaman signed on and 
departed in another ship, the Japanese remain- 
ing for a day or two. To him came the wife of 
one of the seamen who had been on board the 
lost ship to ask for news. 

The little Japanese stood before the anxious 
woman, and his face was impassive, except his 
eyes, and his hands fluttered like birds. 

"On deck," said the little Japanese, "captain 
— donkeyman — mate — seamen, one, two, thlee." 
He made a bridge of his hands, and swiftly re- 
versed them. "Ship so. Captain — donkeyman 
— mate — seamen, one, two, thlee. ' ' He drew his 
hand across his throat, which clicked. "All 
gone." He pointed downward. "Your man 
too." 

The woman went away. The little Japanese 
went to sea. 



VIII 

The Sole Survivor 

The steamship Tangistan, homeward bound 
from the Mediterranean laden with a full cargo 
of iron ore, was within a tide of her port of 
destination, in the north. There had been no 
alarms during the voyage ; no enemy submarine 
had been reported during her passage through 
home waters; and merchant seamen in those 
days did not seem to regard mines as a real 
danger. So that when the Irish seaman joined 
the watch below at midnight, he and his mates 
had an easy mind. The Irishman, instead of 
turning in, lit his pipe and, sitting on the edge 
of his bunk, joined in the talk, which ran on 
what they would do when the ship fetched up 
in port next day. Seamen seldom talk about 
the sea if they can help it. They look backward 
to the last spell on shore, and forward to the 
next, where, with a pocketful of pay, they can 
buy the earth for a day or two, or even (with 
luck) for a week. 

So the watch below sat and gossiped in the 
hot, dense reek of the cabin, where the electric 

[61] 



62 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

light was hued with tobacco smoke, and the 
oilskins hanging on the bulkhead swayed to 
and fro as the vessel rolled at slow speed. 

"Suddenly the ship was brought up with a 
great shock as if she had struck a rock, and her 
lights were immediately extinguished. ' ' So 
said the Irish seaman, afterwards. 

With the rest of the men he ran up on deck, 
which was sinking beneath his feet. There was 
a swift and orderly movement in the dark, and 
orders were being shouted from the bridge. 
The Irishman went directly to his station at the 
port lifeboat, slung a lifebelt over his head, and 
unloosed one of the falls ready to lower away. 
Two men got into the boat ; a third seaman and 
the Irishman lowered her; and the next thing 
the Irishman knew, the solid ship drew him 
bodily downwards and an immense weight of 
icy water closed over him. The Irishman, hold- 
ing his breath, swam desperately upwards. He 
thought he would burst; he thought he would 
never prevail; he thought he would die; and 
then, with a sob, he clove the surface, and trod 
water, panting. Then he arranged his lifebelt 
properly under his arms, saw a bulk of wreck- 
age floating, swam to it, got his leg over it, and 
so remained. Harsh cries rang through the 
dark, and the Irishman recognised the voices 
and lingo of the Arab firemen, and at a little 
distance he saw four of them clinging, like him- 
self, to some wreckage. The ship was gone. 
Of all her people, himself and the four firemen 
were left alive. 

The Irishman, clasping his spar and heaving 



THE SOLE SURVIVOR 63 

up and down on the long swell, felt the cold 
turning his very bones to ice. He had no idea 
how long it would be before he was numbed into 
unconsciousness, when his hold would be loosed 
and he would be drowned ; but it seemed to him 
that he would last longer than the four unhappy 
children of the sun who were crying yonder. He 
cried out likewise, at the full pitch of his voice, 
and very likely the exertion helped to keep him 
going. But his hails sounded in his own ears 
little as the whining of a sea-gull, and wholly 
impotent to travel in the great vault of night 
and tossing sea. Still he called aloud, for he 
was in the track of steamers. 

And presently he saw a steamer. She carried 
no lights, but he descried her form, a darker 
shape upon the sea and sky, and saw the sparks 
volley from her funnel. 

He shrieked till his voice broke, but the 
steamer went on and vanished. The Irishman 
was furiously enraged ; but it was of no use to 
be angry. He went on calling. So did the other 
four castaways, but their cries were growing 
fainter and less frequent. 

Then there loomed another steamer, and she, 
too, went on. It seemed to the Irishman that 
he was doomed; but he went on calling. An 
Irishman dies hard. By this time perhaps an 
hour had gone by, and the Arab firemen had 
fallen silent. The Irishman could see them no 
longer. He never saw them again. 

A third steamer hove in sight, and she, too, 
went on. 

The Irishman cursed her with the passionate 



64 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

intensity peculiar to the seaman, and went on 
calling. It was a desperate business now; lie 
could not last much longer; but he would not 
be ' ' bet, ' ' as he called it. 

Then a fourth steamer came towering upon 
the night, and the Irishman bellowed like a bull. 
Did she hear? Not she — not listening — not 
caring — not likely. No — Yes! She was slow- 
ing down. There was an answering hail. Stop- 
ping. Stopped. Away boat. 

Crying and calling, the Irishman sat on his 
spar, and heard the grunt of the oars in the 
rowlocks, and saw the sweep of the blades and 
the dim foam, and then faces bending over him 
with kindly speech, and he was hauled into the 
blessed boat and into life. He had been in the 
water for two hours and ten minutes. Dip your 
hand in next time you are on the North Sea in 
winter, and see what it feels like. 

And next day he was in port, as he had an- 
ticipated; except that he had nothing in the 
world but the borrowed suit of clothes he wore, 
and the borrowed boots in which he trod the 
familiar pavement on the way to the Sailors' 
Home. 



IX 

According to Instructions 

The master of the steamship Headlands, 
which was entering the western approaches of 
the Channel, descried a burning ship. She lay 
about five miles distant to the eastward, and a 
thick smoke ascended from the forward part of 
her. The master, obeying the custom of the 
sea, despite of peril of mine and submarine, 
altered course to go to the assistance of the 
ship overtaken by disaster. 

It was then nine o'clock of a fine clear day, 
Friday, March 12th, 1915. Ere twenty minutes 
had gone by, the master saw the conning-tower 
and masts of a submarine, which was then some 
three miles away, and which was heading south, 
towards the Headlands. And then he saw, fur- 
ther away, a little patrol boat heading for the 
submarine, saw the flash of guns, and heard 
the distant clap of their explosion, as the patrol 
boat fired at long range on the submarine. 

The master immediately perceived several 
things at once. He perceived that in all proba- 
bility the burning vessel had been set on fire by 
the submarine; that the pitrol boat was attend- 

165] 



66 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

ing to the submarine, and that the Headlands 
had run into an affair from which the sooner she 
departed the better. So the master put his helm 
hard a-starboard and steered for the majestic 
lighthouse which towers, a white policeman with 
a lantern, at the sea-turning to the port. 

The Headlands was shoving along as fast as 
she could go, when the master saw that the 
submarine was slashing along on the surface so 
fast that the patrol boat was being left far 
astern, and also that the submarine was catch- 
ing up the Headlands. The master, like other 
masters since, had occasion to reflect what hap- 
pens when you leave your course to help a 
friend in trouble. Also he had time to frame 
his plan of action. 

He decided to run for it, to hold on, and to 
force the submarine to expend a torpedo before 
he surrendered. It might miss him. If it hit, 
that could not be helped. He wished the ship's 
bottom had been clean, when he could have got 
another two knots out of her. The submarine 
continued to gain on the Headlands. 

The master went below, unlocked all his con- 
fidential papers, and burned them in the cabin 
stove, took his hand camera, and returned to 
the bridge. 

The chase had begun at about twenty minutes 
to ten, and after about half an hour the sub- 
marine was within speaking distance astern, 
and her commanding officer was hailing the 
Headlands to stop. The master made no reply. 
He read the number of the submarine — "TJ 29" 
— and then he knew he was being chased by the 



ACCORDING TO INSTRUCTIONS 67 

notorious Captain Otto Weddingen, who (it was 
believed) had sunk the armoured cruisers 
Aboukir, Cressy and Hogue. The master took a 
photograph of "U 29,' ' which vessel, he after- 
wards reported, was "of the latest type." 

Captain Otto Weddingen told the master that 
he would sink him in five minutes. The master, 
still disdaining to reply, ordered the crew to 
get their gear together, and held on his course. 

At 10.25 the submarine fired a torpedo. It 
struck the Headlands abaft the engine-room, 
and she began to settle down. The submarine 
instantly went about and made off at full speed. 
The people of the Headlands took to their boats, 
whence they perceived, far away, patrol vessels 
which were apparently hunting the "U 29/ ' 
Half an hour later the boats were taken in tow 
by patrols, which landed them in port at two 
o'clock that afternoon. 

In the meantime the submarine had sped over 
twenty miles to the westward and had sunk 
another ship. The vessel to whose assistance 
the master of the Headlands had been going 
was still burning. She was the Indian City, 
and she sank during the afternoon of the next 
day. The Headlands was still settling down. A 
steamer from the port went out to her, and had 
towed her to within a mile of the lighthouse 
she had failed to reach when, at eight o'clock 
in the evening, down she went. 

Here is the master's (unofficial) comment, 
which I am permitted to quote: 

"I am naturally sorry that the old Headlands 
has gone, the more so as I have lost something 



68 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

like £150 in stores and personal effects. Still, 
I have the satisfaction of knowing that to the 
last minute we did all possible to avoid capture 
by carrying out the stipulated Admiralty in- 
structions." 

As for the "U 29," a fortnight later she was 
reported by the British Admiralty as having 
been sunk with all hands. 

Had the master of the Headlands been pro- 
vided with a gun, he would have had another 
story to tell; such a story, for instance, as the 
record of the little steamship Atalanta. 

On a wild autumn morning in the following 
year the Atalanta was pounding up the Channel 
against a full north-westerly gale, when the 
master descried a boat, now swung to the crest 
of a wave, the crew pulling steadily, now swal- 
lowed up from view. The master altered course 
to pick up the castaways, and manoeuvred the 
steamship to put the boat under her lee. A 
rope was flung to the men, and they climbed on 
board, eleven French seamen from the sailing 
ship Marechal de Villars, which had been sunk 
by an enemy submarine. 

The Frenchmen were rescued at about ten 
o'clock on the morning of September 11th, 1916. 
Three-quarters of an hour later the master 
sighted a German submarine. Her square, 
slate-coloured conning-tower, rounded at the 
fore-end, was forging through the breaking sea, 
off the starboard bow of the Atalanta, between 
two and three miles distant from her. 

The master of the Atalanta altered course to 
put the submarine astern, ordered full speed, 



ACCORDING TO INSTRUCTIONS 69 

and posted the gun's crew at the gun mounted 
on the quarter. 

The submarine fired. The range was about 
5,000 yards, and the shot struck the sea short of 
the Atalanta. The submarine fired again, and 
again the projectile fell short. The range had 
decreased to about 4,000 yards, and the Atalanta 
fired at the submarine, the shot falling short of 
her. After an interval of five minutes the enemy 
fired again, and the Atalanta courteously re- 
plied. There was a third exchange, and then the 
submarine, with a parting shot, went about and 
headed for a steamer then visible on the horizon. 
The Atalanta went on her way. On this occasion 
three rounds sufficed to discourage the enemy. 



The "Lusitania" 

The fact seems to be that, in spite of their 
threats, no one really believed the Germans 
would put down the Lusitania. According to 
the evidence of surviving passengers, the twelve 
hundred passengers felt little apprehension. 
Either they had not heard of the warnings be- 
fore coming on board, or, having heard these 
rumours, they thought nothing of them, and, 
in any case, they relied for their safety upon 
the speed of the vessel and the protection, upon 
approaching British shores, of British men-of- 
war. Thus, when the passengers went to lunch 
on Friday, May 7th, 1915, the south coast of 
Ireland being then in sight, all was as usual. 
So, at least, it appears; for the evidence of a 
few out of so many cannot be conclusive. 

The purpose of the following narrative is 
neither to record the technical aspect of the 
event nor to depict its horror, but to exemplify 
the conduct of officers and men, in so far as it 
can be ascertained. Nor is it part of the au- 
thor's business to reflect upon the crime of the 
Germans, which in this case differed only in 
degree and not in kind from other murders, and 
which will bring its own punishment in due 
time. 

70 



THE "LUSITANIA" 71 

At two o'clock on that Friday afternoon a 
couple of able seamen went up to relieve the 
men keeping a look-out in the crow's-nest on 
the foremast. One took the port side, the other 
the starboard side. 

The man on the port side scanned the smooth 
bright sea and marked the coloured cliffs of the 
Irish coast showing through the haze. The man 
on the starboard side saw the field of water 
stretching clear to the horizon, with here and 
there a distant boat. 

Said port to starboard, "Anything in sight V 

To which starboard replied, "Nothing do- 
ing.' ' 

There was a few minutes' silence. Then 
starboard said to port : 

"Good God, Frank, here's a torpedo!" And 
he shouted to the bridge below with all his 
strength. 

Port, turning to his mate's side, perceived a 
white track lengthening swiftly from a spot 
some two hundred yards away from the ship. 
The next moment came an order from the 
bridge: "All hands to boat stations," and the 
men went down. 

When the A.B. told his mate there was a 
torpedo coming, the master, standing outside 
the door of his room on the A deck, also saw the 
white track. The quartermaster at the wheel 
heard the second officer sing out, "Here is a 
torpedo." An able seaman on the saloon deck, 
looking through the port, saw a ripple on the 
water about 300 yards distant, then the white 
track, and then he saw the torpedo itself, and 



n THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

cried out a warning. Three passengers, stand- 
ing on the upper deck aft, and gazing out to 
sea, saw what they described as something like 
a whale or a porpoise rising out of the sea about 
three-quarters of a mile away, leaving a little 
trail of white bubbles. Then from that object 
they saw a white track heading towards them. 
At first no one spoke, though all had the same 
thought. Then one said, " Looks like a torpe- 
do," and another said, "My God, it is a tor- 
pedo.' ' The white track, drawing nearer to the 
ship, was hidden from the sight of the passen- 
gers on the upper deck high above the water, 
and they said that for a second they had a kind 
of hope it would not explode. 

Another passenger saw a streak of white, as 
if made on the water by the tail of a fish, and 
then he saw a periscope. A woman said to him 
lightly, "It looks like a torpedo coming.' ' 

The next moment another passenger, leaning 
over the rail, actually saw the torpedo strike the 
hull between the third and four funnels. He 
said the sound of the explosion was like a heavy 
door slammed by the wind. 

The master, standing outside his room, was 
flung to the deck by the shock, and, picking 
himself up, ran to the navigation bridge. As 
he ran he felt a second explosion. The ship was 
already listing to starboard. The master or- 
dered all hands to the boats, signalled to the en- 
gine-room a preconcerted signal, but there was 
no answering movement of the ship. The mas- 
ter told the quartermaster to put his helm hard 
a-starboard. The quartermaster reported hard 



THE "LUSITANIA" 73 

a-starboard. The master said, "All right, boy," 
and told the second officer to note what list 
the vessel had, and the quartermaster to keep 
her head on Kinsale. It was the right seaman 's 
resource to try to beach her. 

The first officer was seated at lunch in the 
saloon when the torpedo struck. He ordered all 
the starboard ports to be closed, and struggled 
with the passengers up to the boat deck. The 
intermediate third officer, who was also seated 
at lunch in the saloon, went up to his boat sta- 
tion on C deck, starboard side. A second-class 
waiter, in his pantry, felt the ship shake heavily, 
saw people crowding up on deck, and went up 
to his boat station. The junior third officer was 
in the officers' smoke-room on the bridge deck. 
The lights went out; he ran up to the bridge, 
the ship leaning over, a shower of fragments 
falling from above the funnels, saw the white 
track of the torpedo, and heard the master or- 
der the swung-out boats to be lowered to the 
rail. The A.B. on the saloon deck who had seen 
the white track and shouted a warning before 
the torpedo struck was already at his boat sta- 
tion. The passengers on the upper deck were 
staggering to the port side, up the deck, which 
sloped at about the angle of an ordinary slate 
roof, arms clasped over their heads, pieces of 
the ship falling all about them, and immersed 
in a black cloud of smoke and water, whose va- 
porous outer edge shone white. Passengers 
were crowding on deck from below, and some 
of the women were weeping. 



74 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

What was happening below, in the rooms and 
alleyways of that floating steel town? 

The junior second engineer was in his cabin 
when he heard a grating noise, and the ship 
heeled over. Going out into the alleyway, he 
was told what had happened. Then he dressed 
himself, went to the lifebelt locker, served out 
lifebelts to passengers, thence he went to the 
engine-room and told the firemen to get away 
up through the engine-room skylight. Then, 
and not till then, he went up on deck to his 
boat station. 

The second senior third engineer, on watch in 
the engine-room, had made out the speed of the 
vessel by reckoning the revolutions when the 
shock came. In a moment the main steam 
dropped to 50 lbs. The pointer on the signal 
dial worked from the bridge switched to full 
speed astern and then full speed ahead, as ar- 
ranged in case of emergency to get full steam 
on. But there was no steam. The lights burned 
dim. The engineer officer started to go to the 
store to get lamps, but failing to get through 
the men rushing to the upper deck, he turned 
back to the platform in case there should be 
more signals. Thence he descended to the lower 
plates to see if the watertight doors were closed. 
The lights went out. Groping in darkness and 
alone, the engineer officer ascertained that the 
water-tight doors were closed, and judged that 
the turbines and the pumps had stopped work- 
ing. Then he went up to C deck. 

In the meantime the first junior third engi- 
neer, who was in No. 3 boiler-room, heard the 



THE "LUSITANIA" 75 

explosion, felt the ship's list, and closed the 
nearest water-tight door by hand. The forward 
water-tight door, starboard side, was blocked 
by escaping firemen. So the engineer officer as- 
cended to the fan flats, went through the fire- 
men's quarters and along the engine-room to 
his cabin on C deck, and thence to his boat sta- 
tion. 

A leading fireman, working in No. 3 section 
of the port-side stokehold, felt a crash as if the 
ship had struck a rock. The men about him 
cried out, "They have got us at last," and 
dashed into the after stokehold. The leading 
fireman did not follow them. He stopped to 
think. Having decided what to do, he went into 
the next section, into which the water was flow- 
ing, and forced the water-tight door shut 
against the stream. Then he climbed up to the 
fan flats to his quarters, took a lifebelt in his 
hand, and went up to C deck. A passenger 
snatched the belt from him and ran. The fire- 
man vaguely understood that word was being 
passed that the ship would not sink, and went 
on to his boat station. 

The curt narratives of these survivors disen- 
gage a phantom vision of the stunning reality. 
The huge vessel, into which some two thousand 
souls had been decanted, is speeding on the 
bright sea, each of her inhabitants busy about 
his private concern, working the ship, tending 
the engines, feeding the furnaces, gossiping, 
dozing, caring for the children, leisurely lunch- 
ing, when there comes a shock, a jar, and a 
trembling and the ship tips sideways, and to 



76 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

every soul on board there rises the immediate 
prospect of death. 

Death or no death, to the officers and the 
ship's company there is duty to be done. The 
master, upon whom rests the whole responsibil- 
ity, gives his orders from the tilting bridge, 
sinking momentarily nearer the water; the 
quartermaster puts the wheel over ; the officers, 
scattered about the ship, instantly do the near- 
est piece of work, help and encourage the pas- 
sengers and go to their boats. The engineers 
methodically attend to the engines, while the 
lights burn dim and are presently extinguished. 
The men from the foretop, saloon, and stoke- 
hold go to their boat stations. The passengers, 
with one accord, are pouring up to the slanting 
decks, where everything is sliding and slip- 
ping. . . . According to testimony, there was 
very little panic, but some of the women were 
weeping. 

The master, speaking from the bridge, had 
ordered the boats to be lowered to the rail; 
and women and children first. He saw that, 
owing to the heeling over of the ship to star- 
board, it would be dangerous to lower the port 
side boats to the rail, because they would swing 
inboard, strike the slanting deck and turn over. 
He saw that until the ship stopped it would be 
dangerous to lower the starboard side boats 
into the water because, owing to the way of the 
vessel, they might capsize. There was there- 
fore an interval, during which officers and men 
strove to load the boats with passengers and 
get them away. 



THE "LUSITANIA" 77 

The master on the bridge knew that the en- 
gines were powerless, and that the vessel would 
presently stop, so that he could not beach her. 
The quartermaster reported that she kept pay- 
ing off. The second officer, watching the ship 
heeling over, reported 15 degrees of list, and 
then an increase. The water was lipping over 
the starboard end of the bridge. The master 
told the quartermaster to save himself, and the 
quartermaster, having no lifebelt, waded waist- 
deep into the rising water, got a lifebuoy and 
was then washed into the sea. The master re- 
mained on the high end of the bridge. 

What was happening on the tilted deck? 

The first officer, who had been at lunch in 
the saloon, was getting people into a boat on 
the starboard side. By that time the ship was 
listing 40 degrees, and sinking by the head, and 
the boat was therefore hanging from the davits 
several feet away from the rail. The first offi- 
cer, with immense difficulty, transferred about 
eighty persons across this chasm into the boat 
and then lowered the boat into the water. Peo- 
ple were then slipping down the deck into the 
sea. The first officer remained in the ship, the 
people in the boat calling to him to come down. 
The forward bridge was awash, and the ship 
evidently sinking fast. The first officer went 
down the falls and dropped into the boat. Two 
or three minutes afterward the ship stood on 
her nose and went down, and the boat was 
dragged this way and that in the whirlpool. 

The junior second engineer, coming up from 
directing the firemen, came to his boat on the 



78 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

port side, where were some of the boat's crew 
and a crowd of passengers. He lowered the 
boat to the level of the deck and filled her with 
women. Then the heeling over of the vessel 
flung the boat inboard and capsized her on the 
top of her passengers. The engineer officer, 
hanging on to a davit, went down with the ship, 
and presently came up again. While the junior 
second engineer was hanging on the davit and 
the passengers were sliding from under the cap- 
sized boat down the deck and into the water, 
the second senior third engineer, having done 
all he could below, climbed over the rail on the 
port side and walked down the hull into the sea. 

The first junior third engineer, having shut 
watertight doors and the like below, came up 
to the starboard side, where the first officer was 
loading his boat. The first junior third engi- 
neer took charge of his own boat. He stood by 
the after falls, and an able seaman stood by the 
forward falls. They lowered the boat to the 
deck and put about thirty women into her. Then 
they lowered the boat into the water, the junior 
third engineer, like the first officer, remaining 
in the ship. When the rail had dropped to 
within about ten feet above the boat, he jumped 
down into her, seized an oar and tried to shove 
off from the ship's side. A dense cloud of water 
mingled with soot descended, and when the 
engineer officer could see again, there was no 
ship, and the boat was swinging in the whirl- 
pool. 

When the intermediate third officer came up 
from the saloon, with a rush of passengers, he 
went to his section of boats, starboard side. 



THE "LUSITANIA" 79 

One of his boats, which had been lowered to 
the rail, was already full of passengers, and 
some aliens were trying to get on board. The 
officer disposed of the aliens and got the boat 
into the water and away. Then he got another 
boat away, full of passengers. He could have 
gone with her, but he was too late. The ship 
was sinking. He struggled up the steep slant 
of the deck to the port side, and the water 
caught him. He had just time to snatch the 
life line of a boat, when he was sucked down 
with the ship. When he came to the surface the 
ship was gone. 

The second-class waiter and library steward, 
who had rushed on deck from his pantry, went 
to the after collapsible boats and tried to get 
them away. Failing, he cut away empty cases 
and lockers and hove them overboard, so that 
people could hang on to them. The ship sank 
under him. 

The leading fireman, coming up from below, 
was carried by the crowd to the starboard side. 
Here he found a boat, of which the forward falls 
had slipped, hanging bows down. He helped to 
haul her level, and then helped to put women 
into her. As she was being lowered, a fall 
slipped and all the passengers were thrown into 
the sea. The fireman clung to a thwart of the 
boat, which was drawn down with the ship. 

The junior third officer, coming from the 
bridge, went to his boat station on the deadly 
port side, and with an able seaman lowered his 
boat, which swung inboard and was useless. 
Then the staff captain sent him back to the 
bridge to tell the second officer to trim the ship 



80 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

with the port tanks. The ship drawing a little 
nearer level, the port boats were swung clear 
of the rail. Then some passengers, meddling 
with the guys, let them go, so that the boats 
swung back again inboard. Amid this crowd 
and confusion, the ship heeling over, boats and 
collapsible boats beneath them, and passengers 
all mixed up together, the junior officer strove 
desperately until, the ship going down under 
him, he slid down to starboard, where the rail 
was nearly submerged, and so into the water, 
and was sucked down with the vessel, and came 
up again. 

It seems that the two able seamen who had 
come down from the crow's-nest were also 
struggling to get the port side boats away. 
One boat, partly filled with women, was being 
lowered when the ship sank, and all were in the 
water. 

The able seaman who from the saloon saw the 
torpedo coming and gave the alarm, being un- 
able to get one of the starboard boats away, 
joined the party under the command of the first 
officer, and went away in his boat. 

The master, on the bridge, put on a lifebelt, 
waited till the ship sank under him, went down 
with her and came up again. As the water 
closed about him there rang in his ears "a long, 
wailing, mournful, despairing, beseeching cry. ' ' 
So one of the passengers described the last 
sound to The Times. 

He was in the water for nearly three hours 
when he was picked up by one of the ship's 
boats. 



THE "LUSITANIA" 81 

What happened after the Lusitania had 
plunged down bows first, her stern projecting 
almost vertically from the sea, the living within 
her being smashed against bulkheads by furni- 
ture and then drowned? 

Amid the whirl and undulation and breaking 
waves of the sea were tossing men, women and 
children, dead and alive, boats, cases, casks, 
spars, wreckage of all kinds. Eight in the 
whirlpool were the laden boats of the first officer 
and of the junior third engineer, and the two 
other boats lowered from the starboard side. It 
seems that only these four were safely got away 
filled with passengers. There were other boats 
floating about, and some collapsible boats. Some 
boats were capsized, some had people clinging 
to them. 

The first officer, whose boat, laden with about 
eighty people, was tossing dangerously, ordered 
the passengers to sit still, and by means of good 
seamanship extricated his boat from danger. 
With him were the first junior third engineer, 
the able seaman from the saloon deck, and some 
seamen and stewards. About 600 yards away 
was another boat, apparently empty, to which 
they pulled, and found in her three men who 
had swum to her. The first officer transferred 
to this boat the first junior third engineer, whom 
he put in charge of her, a crew of seamen and 
stewards and about thirty passengers. Boom 
was thus made in both boats for more survivors. 
The first officer returned to the scene of the 
disaster and picked up as many people as the 
boat would hold. Then he rowed to a fishing 



82 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

smack, a distance of about five miles, and put 
the passengers on board her. Then he rowed 
all the way back again. He came upon a col- 
lapsible boat, water-logged and helpless, in 
which were thirty-five persons, took them on 
board, and transhipped them into a trawler. 
The trawler towed the first officer's boat back 
once more to the scene of the wreck, and he 
rescued ten persons, whom he transhipped to 
another vessel. By this time there were various 
vessels assembling ; and the first officer, finding 
his crew exhausted by their hours of rowing a 
heavy sea-boat, and their intense exertions, 
went with them on board one of the rescuing 
boats, and so was taken into Queenstown. 

In the meantime the first junior third engi- 
neer had been doing the like with his boat. He 
baled her out, picked up about twenty-four per- 
sons, and transferred them to a sailing trawler. 
Then he took a number of women from a collap- 
sible boat into his own boat, the sailing trawler 
being fully laden. A steam trawler arrived, 
and the first junior third engineer put his crew 
and passengers on board her. The trawler sup- 
plied fresh crews for the boat and the collapsi- 
ble boat, took the boats in tow, and, having res- 
cued more people, went to Queenstown, where 
she arrived about half -past eight in the evening, 
some six hours after the disaster. 

So much for the work of the boats. We learn 
something of what happened to the people cast 
upon the sea from the brief accounts of sur- 
vivors, and thus picture the field of waters, 
strewn with wreckage and half -submerged boats 



THE "LUSITANIA" 83 

to which people are clinging, and dotted with 
men and women still feebly swimming and 
floating. . . . Here and there are trawlers and 
other vessels, and boats whose crews are hauling 
people over the side. 

One of the able seamen who had been on 
watch in the crow's-nest, and who had been 
drawn down with the ship, came to the surface 
and seized a floating block of wood. Then he 
saw a woman struggling, pushed the wood over 
to her, and swam away to a collapsible boat. 
There were several people in her, one of the 
ship's officers among them. The able seaman 
climbed on board, and at once took his part in 
wrestling with the crank boat, which kept turn- 
ing over. Again and again they righted her, 
but each time they were flung into the water 
some of the survivors were drowned. After 
a long time, those who remained, the sturdy 
A.B. among them, were picked up by one of the 
ship's boats. 

The junior second engineer who, while trying 
to launch one of the port side boats, had been 
drawn down with the ship, came up to the sur- 
face, clutched a lifebuoy and remained floating. 
He floated for about two and a half hours, and 
then he was picked up by one of the ship 's boats. 

The second senior third engineer, having done 
all that could be done below, came up on deck 
to find it tilted to so steep an angle that he could 
not keep his footing. He climbed over the rail 
on the port side and walked down the sinking 
hull into the water. He kept himself afloat for 
about three hours. Then he was picked up by 



84 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

one of the collapsible boats, which was partly 
water-logged, and thence he was transferred to 
a patrol boat. 

The quartermaster who, after being told by 
the master to save himself, took a lifebuoy and 
was washed from the bridge, swam to a capsized 
boat. Seated in the keel were ' ' two foreigners, ' ' 
who hauled the quartermaster alongside them. 
The party was rescued by a trawler. 

The intermediate third officer, having helped 
to launch the starboard side boats, ran up the 
deck to the port side as the ship went down, and 
was carried down with her. He swam to a cap- 
sized boat, to which twenty-five persons were 
clinging. During the next four hours and more 
twenty of the twenty-five dropped off and were 
drowned. A trawler rescued the survivors. 

The second-class waiter under whom the ship 
went down while he was cutting away and casting 
into the sea lockers and empty cases, also swam 
to a capsized boat and was eventually picked up. 

The leading fireman, carried down on the 
starboard side with the boat he was trying to 
clear and the ship, swam to a collapsible boat. 
It was fortunately floating right side up; the 
cover was still on it; and on the cover were a 
coal-trimmer and a woman. They helped him 
on board ; and the leading fireman, a person of 
energy and resource, got to work, cut the cover 
away, put the sides up, and then cruised about 
picking people from the water. They were 
presently rescued by a trawler. 

The junior third officer, after his desperate 
efforts to get away the port side boats, had gone 
down with the ship. When he came up he 



THE "LUSITANIA" 85 

swam to a collapsible boat, which was partly 
stove in. He climbed on board her and picked 
up another man. The two, having managed 
partly to raise the sides of the boat, went in 
search of others. They rescued several people 
from the water and from a capsized boat, during 
two hours ' hard toil. Then they came upon three 
persons hanging on to a bread-tank, but by that 
time the collapsible boat was full. The indefat- 
igable junior third officer found an empty boat, 
transferred his passengers to her, then returned 
and took in the castaways on the bread-tank 
and picked out several more people floating on 
life-belts. He kept the two boats in company, 
and both were subsequently rescued. 

The rescuing vessels came dropping into 
Queenstown as the night fell, laden with the 
living, the dying and the dead. During the next 
two days the dead were carried through the 
streets by stretcher-parties to the mortuaries. 
Here men and women walked in fear, scanning 
the dead faces, looking for those whom they 
had lost. But our affair is not with the pas- 
sengers, but with the men of the merchant serv- 
ice, and how they discharged their duty. 

It is right, however, that the remarks made 
by the enemy should be remembered. Said the 
Cologne Gazette: "The news will be received by 
the German people with undisguised gratifica- 
tion. . . ." Said the Frankfurter Zeitung: "A 
German war vessel sunk the ship. It has done 
its duty!" Said the Austrian Neue Freie 
Presse: "We rejoice over this new success of 
the German Navy. ..." 

So much for "the freedom of the seas." 



XI 

The Castaways 

The master was sitting in the saloon, peace- 
fully writing. His ship, pitching heavily in the 
swell, was the British steamer Coquet, laden 
with salt, which she was carrying eastward 
through the Mediterranean. It was eleven 
o'clock in the forenoon of Tuesday, January 
4th, 1916. The master heard the report of a 
gun fired at sea. Eunning up to the bridge, he 
heard a second report, and saw a projectile 
speed across the bows and plunge into the water. 
The third officer, on watch on the bridge, told 
the master that the shots were fired from a 
submarine on the port quarter, and also that 
he had (he thought) sighted another submarine 
on the port bow. Gazing across the field of 
great blue hills rising and falling, at first the 
master could see nothing else. Then he caught 
side of the submarine astern, running on the 
surface at a good speed, something over a mile 
away. Another shell sang over the bridge, an- 
other passed under the stern. The master, per- 
ceiving that the attacking submarine was over- 

86J 



THE CASTAWAYS 87 

hauling him, and having reason to suppose that 
another submarine was approaching, ordered 
the engines to be stopped, and the boats to be 
made ready to get away, and ran up a hoist of 
flags, signifying that the ship was stopped. 
The submarine drew nearer, flying the signal 
"Abandon ship." Then the master went down 
to his cabin, took his confidential papers and 
burned them in the galley fire. The officers and 
men were lowering the boats in a hurry, amid 
the babble in several languages of the crew, 
who were of various nationalities. 

The port side lifeboat, under the command of 
the first officer, was got away first. The master, 
taking his chronometer, sextant, chart and the 
ship's papers, went away in the starboard life- 
boat. Then the submarine opened fire again. 
Shefiredeight shots, all of which missed the ship, 
one severing the bridge signal halliards. The 
heavy swell baulked the submarine gunners. 

The submarine, drawing nearer the two boats, 
ordered them to come alongside, a manoeuvre 
highly dangerous with so great a sea running. 
And in coming alongside both boats were flung 
downwards upon the outer edge of the subma- 
rine's hull, which was awash, their timbers were 
started, and the water came in. The master was 
ordered on board the submarine by her com- 
manding officer, a short, square-built man of 
forty or fifty with a fair moustache, speaking 
good English. With him were several other offi- 
cers, all dressed in leather clothing, and bearing 
the Austrian crown in their caps. Eight or nine 
of the crew, wearing ordinary bluejackets' rig, 



88 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

were on deck. They were secured in case of acci- 
dent by lanyards fastened to their belts and at- 
tached at the other end to a wire jack-stay run- 
ning fore and aft. The submarine, painted a blu- 
ish slate-colour, was not of the latest size. She 
bore signs of wear, carried two masts winged to 
the deck and lying on it, and mounted one gun, 
about nine feet long, forward of the conning tower. 

When the two boats of the Coquet were diz- 
zily rising and falling alongside the submarine, 
the submarine commander ordered the master 
to come on board. At the same time some of 
the submarine's crew, armed with revolvers 
and cutlasses, embarked in the two boats, which 
were sent back to the ship, leaving the master 
alone with his captors in the submarine. 

The commander of the submarine proceeded 
to improve the occasion by endeavouring to 
elicit from the master his views on the subject 
of the war. The British officer, by his account 
of the matter, seems to have affected a dense 
ignorance. But the ignorance of the submarine 
commander was probably unfeigned, for he said : 

"When you get back to London, Captain, tell 
Mr. Grey that if he does not want his ships sunk, 
to stop the war ; it is only being kept on by him 
and the young men of England.' ' 

While the master was thus being entertained, 
the two ship 's boats had regained the ship. The 
men were given twenty minutes to collect their 
gear, while the submarine's men set to looting 
the vessel. When the men of the Coquet were 
ready, they were ordered to return to the sub- 
marine. The submarine's people loaded one of 



THE CASTAWAYS 89 

the small boats of the Coquet with their booty, 
lowered her into the water, embarked in her, and 
fastened two bombs on the ship's hull, under 
water, abreast of the holds. Then they pulled 
away for the submarine. 

The master, stolidly parrying the questions of 
the submarine commander, saw two bursts of 
black smoke shroud the Coquet, and heard a 
double explosion. Instantly the ship began to 
settle by the head. He watched her sinking for 
several minutes, then she plunged bows down, 
lifted her stern high above the water, screamed 
like a wounded animal, and vanished. For in 
sinking, something caught her whistle lanyard. 
(It is recorded by eye-witnesses that when 
H.M.S. Sultan was wrecked in the Mediterra- 
nean many years ago, she having been aban- 
doned at the last minute, her ensign was lowered 
to half-mast as she was in the act of sinking.) 

The two lifeboats of the Coquet came along- 
side the submarine, both leaking badly, so that 
the men were baling hard. It was in these 
damaged craft that the submarine commander 
proposed to set thirty-one men adrift, many 
miles from land, in mid-winter, in the dangerous 
weather of the Mediterranean. The master re- 
monstrated with the submarine officer, telling 
him plainly he was committing murder. The 
affair struck the submarine commander as hu- 
morous. He laughed, airily promising to send 
the next ship he stopped to look for the cast- 
aways. His men then robbed the Coquet of 
chronometers, sextants, charts and everything 
else that took their fancy. The master was or- 



90 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

dered into his boat; the two boats shoved off; 
and the submarine got under way, steered 
northward, and was presently lost to sight. 

So ended chapter one. 

Consider the situation of these thirty-one sea- 
men, adrift in open boats, both of which were 
overloaded and unseaworthy, some 300 miles 
from the mainland, which they could not pos- 
sibly reach in less than three days and three 
nights, with .wind and weather favourable. The 
chief hope was their rescue by a steamer. 

There were seventeen in the master's boat, 
fourteen in the mate 's boat. The master steered 
south, hoisting sail and running before the wind, 
a course which would take them across the 
track of steamers. And sure enough, after sail- 
ing all the afternoon, they sighted a ship. The 
mate, whose boat was between the master's boat 
and the distant ship, burned three red flares, 
and the master burned one. So the castaways 
stared in suspense at the prospect of their sal- 
vation. But immediately it vanished, for the 
steamer held on her course. 

Then began one of those ordeals of the sea 
which go beyond the landsman's imagination to 
conceive. By this time the sea was running so 
high that it was dangerous to sail. The master 
lowered the sail, unshipped the mast, and put 
out the drogue, or sea anchor, a conical bag of 
sailcloth, which, towed with the open larger end 
towards the boat, serves to take her way off 
and keep her head to sea. But the sea-anchor 
failed of its effect, and the master towed the 
mast instead. 



THE CASTAWAYS 91 

The breaking waves, and the spray driven by 
a pitiless north wind, soaked the castaways and 
chilled them to the heart. The boat was con- 
tinually filling with water, so that two men 
mnst be kept baling without cessation. 

The master, competent and imperturbable 
from first to last, organised his party. The ra- 
tions were fixed at two and a half biscuits and 
two gills of water per man per day, and the 
first ration was given that night. The men took 
turns at the baling, two at a time. The steward, 
an old man and ill, was exempted. So were the 
four boys, who were paralysed with sea-sick- 
ness, cold and fear. So passed the night of 
January 4th, after the ship which might have 
rescued the castaways had gone on her way un- 
heeding. There is no record of what happened 
in the chief officer's boat. 

So, all the next day, January 5th : heavy sea, 
bitter wind, thirst, cold, hunger, incessant bal- 
ing and the boat never less than ankle-deep in 
water, bale as they might. That day the car- 
penter managed to caulk a part of the boat with 
pieces of shirt. So, all the night of the 5th, and 
the early morning of the 6th. 

"When the darkness began to thin the master, 
as his boat rose to the crest of a wave, made out 
a dark object in the distance away to leeward, 
and thought it might be a steamer proceeding 
without lights. He burned a flare, which was 
immediately answered by another, and pres- 
ently, not a steamer but the first officer's boat 
hove nearer. When the first officer came within 
speaking distance, the master told him to keep 



92 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

far apart, in order to increase the chance of 
sighting a steamer. The first officer steered 
away, and gradually drew further off during 
the day. As darkness closed in on the third day, 
those in the master's boat lost sight of the first 
officer 's boat. She was never seen again. 

That night, the night of January 6th-7th, the 
sea rose higher, so that the master trailed a 
leaking oil-bag to allay the breaking of the 
waves. The night was worse than the day, be- 
cause during the day there was a chance of 
sun. But, save for an occasional watery ray, 
there never was any sun. 

The misery of the castaways was hourly in- 
tensifying. The master and several others suf- 
fered piercing pains in their joints. One of the 
four boys, a little Italian mess-room waiter, 
cried all night long in his sleep with the pain. 
So passed the day of the 7th and the following 
night. 

On the morning of the 8th wind and sea went 
down a little. The master reckoned that by 
this time he had run right across the track of 
steamers ; he perceived that it was impossible, 
in that weather, to return upon his course ; and 
he decided to steer south for the African coast. 
At first they did better; then the wind backed 
to west-north-west, making it difficult to keep 
the course. 

All that night, and all the day following (the 
9th), the wind kept backing to the south-west, 
the boat making more and more leeway. Still 
the master sailed her indomitably. The allowance 
of water had been slightly increased, because 



THE CASTAWAYS 93 

the continual driving of the salt spray gave the 
men an intense thirst. But the water was run- 
ning short. Towards evening, the master, un- 
able any longer to steer south, was forced to 
steer south-east. So he held desperately on till 
midnight. And then he descried, looming 
through the wintry dark, land. 

Almost at the same moment, with that per- 
versity which lends to fortune an expression of 
blind malignity, the wind blew harder and 
shifted into the south, dead ahead, and scourged 
the water into the vicious short sea of the Med- 
iterranean. The master, numbed and suffer- 
ing, but unbeaten, reefed down and held on. 
But so heavy were wind and sea that presently 
he was compelled to lower the sail, unship the 
mast, heave it overboard with a couple of oars 
lashed to it, and tow it, to serve as a sea-an- 
chor. In this near hopeless trim they pitched 
and rolled, baling all the while, for three or 
four hours. Then, as the light of day began 
to glimmer over the desolate sea, the wind and 
sea went down somewhat. The master shipped 
the mast again, and again hoisted sail, and be- 
gan to beat to windward. To and fro they 
shoved, gaining perhaps a few yards when they 
went about, the heavy boat making leeway for 
all they could do, the wind pushing them off 
the desired shore. So, all day. Beating up 
against a head wind is a heavy, weary job 
enough with a fresh crew, plenty of time and no 
anxiety. What was it to these castaways, sliding 
back and forth in sight of the mocking shore ! 

But they drew nearer in spite of all ; and as 



94 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

the chance of salvation grew, the wind dropped, 
nntil they could no longer keep steerage way in 
the boat. Bnt by this time the shore was in 
clear view, sloping down to a little bay, and, be- 
yond, buildings rose upon the grey sky. The 
master lowered sail, and ordered the men to row. 
It was the last effort. The crew were so exhaust- 
ed they could scarce get way on the boat, and all 
the while two of them must keep baling, crouch- 
ing under the moving oars as best they could. 

They drew near the rocky shore, where a 
heavy sea was running, and the boat was filled 
with water, so that they must haul off and bale 
her out. This happened twice. Then they got 
the boat into shallow water, tumbled out of her, 
and made her fast. 

The master sent a couple of men to look for 
water, made the boat secure for the night, and, 
stiff and aching, his legs bending under him, 
explored the haven to which he had so dread- 
fully come. In the face of the low cliffs closing 
in the bay were the dark mouths of caves. 
Looking into these, the master perceived wet 
and a lamentable stench. Ascending the cliffs, 
he found what he had thought to be a village 
was a heap of ancient ruins. The master de- 
cided that it was best to sleep on the sand of 
the bay, which, he hoped, might hold some 
warmth of the day's sunlight. 

But when they lay down in their wet clothes 
the sand struck chill and wet. Ere they lay 
down, they made a meal of limpets plucked from 
the rocks, biscuit, and water from a well found 
by the two men. They slept, the master, the 



THE CASTAWAYS 95 

second officer, and the two engineers keeping 
watch by turns, as miserable a party as the 
stars looked down upon that night. They had 
lost their ship on the 4th ; it was now the 10th ; 
six days and nights they had tossed and suf- 
fered, starved, athirst and deadly cold ; and now 
they were flung upon the edge of the desert, soli- 
tary and savage. 

So ended chapter two. 

The master, upon whom hung the lives of all, 
awoke at daybreak and, aching in every bone, 
reflected upon the situation. It appeared to 
him that the place where they were, being pro- 
vided with water to drink and shellfish for food 
and the materials for shelter, should serve as 
a base until he could discover the nearest port 
of civilisation. 

Breakfast of shellfish, biscuits and water was 
served out. The master instructed the second 
officer to get the boat baled out, listed over and 
repaired if possible, and to clean out one of the 
caves and to light a fire in it. The wind had 
dropped ; there was a flat calm ; and to get any- 
where by rowing was merely impossible. So the 
master, with three men, set forth to try to find 
a man or a town. The country was all mud and 
great stones and hills of loose sand, so that the 
pioneers, whose legs were near paralysed, stum- 
bling and falling, endured the most frightful 
toil. It takes a deal to kill the British seaman. 
After all they had suffered, with scarce a flicker 
of life alight in them, these four started on a 
long march. They struggled on in that savage 
wilderness for some hours, and then, as though 



96 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

appearing out of the earth, there stood before 
them a lone Arab of great stature. The master 
could make nothing of his talk; but he seemed 
friendly, and together they retraced the weary 
way to the camp. 

When they arrived, one of the firemen, a 
Greek, acted as interpreter. It appeared that 
the tall Arab proposed that the party should em- 
bark in their boat and let him pilot them to the 
nearest port. But the second officer now re- 
ported that the boat was damaged beyond re- 
pair. The planks on either side the keel were 
smashed to pieces, and the water came in faster 
than it could be baled out. Then the helpful 
Arab suggested that the master should march 
with him across country to the nearest town. 
But the master was done. He had been walking 
for six or seven hours already. So he sent two 
Greek firemen with the Arab. One of the Greeks 
spoke Arabic, so that he could converse with 
the guide ; the other knew Italian. As the cast- 
aways were in Italian territory, the Greek could 
explain the case. The Greeks were told to ask 
for a boat to be sent to rescue the party. So 
they departed with the Arab into the desert. 

The fifteen men left behind began to reckon 
upon the coming of that vessel in the morning. 
A fire of driftwood was blazing in the cave ; the 
people had dried their clothes; and, although 
the floor was wet and hard, at least there was a 
fire, and a part of their bodies was warmed. 

Next morning, the 12th, after breakfast, some 
of the men went away to wash in the muddy 
water of a little river flowing into the sea near 



THE CASTAWAYS 97 

by. All kept an eager eye lifting to seaward, 
looking out for the rescuing vessel. It was 
nearly ten o 'clock, and the master was just go- 
ing down to the river to wash, when there rang 
the crack of rifles, and bullets sang about the 
rocks. 

Silhouetted against the sky on the top of a 
little hill were the dancing and gesticulating fig- 
ures of two Arabs. They were laughing and 
shouting; and the master, conceiving the fusil- 
lade to be no more than an expression of Bed- 
ouin humour, wisely decided to take cover while 
it lasted. Down by the water's edge was a line 
of ruins, beneath which ran a dry ditch, closed 
at one end by the sea. The master ordered the 
men into the ditch, and with his customary fore- 
thought saw that they took with them a bucket 
of drinking water. 

The two Arab sportsmen presently disap- 
peared, but the master still kept his party un- 
der cover. The two Arabs must have been 
scouts, for after about half an hour fifteen Bed- 
ouin, armed with rifles, leaped shouting upon 
the bank of ruins, and burst into a torrent of 
unintelligible speech. Two Arabs covered the 
master with their rifles. He held up his hands, 
showing that he was defenceless, whereupon one 
of the marauders, standing within six feet of 
the master, drew a bead on him. The master 
ducked as the Arab pulled the trigger ; the bul- 
let cut through the flesh of the master's bent 
shoulders, and the shock of the blow knocked 
him backwards. The back of his head struck 
the sand, and he lost consciousness. 



98 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

When he came to himself, there was no sound 
save the groaning of a man in pain. The master, 
getting dizzily to his feet, the blood flowing 
from his wound, which hurt him exceedingly, 
perceived the carpenter, writhing on the ground 
near the waters edge. The man was horribly 
wounded; he implored the master to drag him 
away from the water. The master, in spite of 
the pain of his wound, tried to move the man, 
but he was too heavy. 

In the sea close by, the body of the steward 
was floating, face downwards. Further up the 
trench lay the little Italian messroom boy, he 
who had suffered so dreadfully in the boat. But 
all was over for the little Italian, in this world. 

The master, from where he was, could see 
none other of his party. He kept his gaze to 
seaward, passionately expecting, in this last ex- 
tremity, the boat for which the two Greeks had 
gone with the friendly Arab. Now and again 
he gave the carpenter water to drink. 

So he waited, in company with two dead and 
one dying. And then at last he beheld the smoke 
of a steamer, and a little after made out the 
Italian colours she was flying. She rounded 
into the bay; away came a boat crammed with 
soldiers ; the master tottered out from his ditch, 
and the first thing he saw was another sailor, a 
coloured man, lying prone and bleeding on the 
sand. He was still alive, and he told the master 
that the Bedouin had shot and bayoneted him 
and left him for dead, and that they had carried 
away the rest of the crew. 

The soldiers, landing, spread out in pursuit 



THE CASTAWAYS 99 

of the Arabs; but these savages were out of 
sight. The Italian officer in command con- 
veyed the master, the two wounded men and the 
two dead on board the steamer. The carpenter 
died while his wounds were being dressed. 
There were then left alive the master and the 
coloured seaman. 

The Italians took the living and the dead to 
their military post. The master and the sea- 
man were placed in the military hospital. The 
bodies of the two men and of the little Italian 
were buried with full military honours. 
Throughout, the master and the seaman re- 
ceived the greatest kindness from the Italians. 

The master recovered and returned to Eng- 
land. He gave an admirable account of his ad- 
ventures to the Imperial Merchant Service 
Guild, which was published in The Times of 
March 30th, 1916, and upon which the present 
writer has largely drawn in framing his nar- 
rative. 



XII 

Down in Five Minutes 

The business of a gunner is to stick to his 
gun. When the torpedo exploded below in the 
stokehold, the Royal Marine Artilleryman in 
charge of the gun on deck " brought the gun to 
the * ready' and had a good look round." But 
he could see nothing to shoot at; nothing but 
the long, ragged swell of the Eastern Mediter- 
ranean. The ship was heeling over ; it was im- 
possible to train the gun ; so the Royal Marine, 
with his brother gunner, ran to a boat which 
was filled with passengers, and tried to lower 
her. But the list of the ship, as she lay down on 
her side, capsized the boat. The two Marines, 
perhaps remarking that it was time to get out 
and walk, slid into the water and swam about 
until they were picked up by one of the ship's 
boats. Thirty hours they were adrift ; and then 
they were rescued by one of his Majesty's ships, 
and were thence transferred to a battleship; 

"Gunner and self remaining on board 

H.M.S. awaiting further orders." 

So ended the voyage of the two R.M.L.I. 's on 
board the Royal Mail steamer Persia. 

100 



DOWN IN FIVE MINUTES 101 

On Thursday, December 30th, 1916, she was 
in the Mediterranean, proceeding eastwards, 
carrying 503 persons, of whom 186 were pas- 
sengers. The crew consisted of 81 Europeans 
and 236 natives. At ten minutes past one, with- 
out sign or warning, the Persia was torpedoed 
and sank in four to five minutes. 

The second officer, on watch on the bridge, did 
indeed catch a glimpse of the wake of a torpedo, 
but before he could lay hand on the wheel to put 
the helm over, came the explosion. The tor- 
pedo struck the ship on the port side, burst in 
the stokehold, exploded a boiler, killed the en- 
gine-room staff, and blew a large hole in the 
hurricane deck. Immediately the ship began to 
lie down on her port side. 

She was thus rapidly heeling over when the 
second officer, trying to sound the emergency 
signal on the whistle, found all the steam had 
gone. He then perceived the situation, which 
was, in brief, that the ship was sinking; that 
while she was sinking she was still moving for- 
ward with her own impetus; that her motion 
would make the operation of lowering boats dif- 
ficult and dangerous; but that as there was no 
steam she could not be stopped. 

The second officer realised these things as he 
sprang down to the lower bridge, where was the 
master. The master ordered him to get the 
boats away. The second officer dashed to the 
two boats on the poop. During the minute or 
two which had elapsed since the explosion, these 
were already loaded with women and children 
and a few of the crew. The second officer, work- 



102 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

ing with furious energy, got both boats low- 
ered. One floated clear. The other, as the ship 
continued to lean over, was actually pressed 
down by the davits, with the weight of the ship 
behind them. There was no more to be done 
with it. By this time the deck was nearly per- 
pendicular. The second officer struggled to two 
boats secured inboard, and swiftly loosened the 
gripes. Then he scrambled up to the starboard 
side, and tried to lower a boat. As in the case 
of the Lusitania, the boat swung inboard. All 
these things did the second officer in four or 
five minutes. Then the ship sank under him. 

The second officer swam to a boat and climbed 
in. She was one of the inboard boats he had 
cast loose. The second officer took to the oars 
and picked people out of the water. 

The chief officer was in his cabin when he felt 
the impact of a heavy blow upon the ship, and 
the next moment, with a great sound, everything 
leaped from the bulkheads and fell about his 
ears. One moment he stood dazed ; the next he 
caught up a lifebelt and an axe, and ran up to 
the tilting boat deck shouting "Port boats." 
He saw the second officer getting away the boats 
on the poop ; perceived that the ship was sinking 
so rapidly that there would be no time to load 
the boats; and decided to get them away in 
order to employ them afterwards in saving peo- 
ple in the water. Under his orders the boats 
were flung loose, the chief officer using his axe. 
Then, like the second officer, he slid into the 
water and swam. He was picked up by a boat 
which already contained over thirty persons. 



DOWN IN FIVE MINUTES 103 

Then he rescued more people, until his boat was 
so overloaded that he transferred several per- 
sons to the second officer 's boat. 

No one seems to know what became of the 
master, except that he went down with his 
ship. 

What of the passengers, among whom were 
women, children and soldiers 1 

One of the passengers, a civil servant, made 
an illuminating statement. He was travelling 
with a friend, and it seems that both men had 
in mind the possibility of submarine attack. 
The evening before the disaster the two men 
stood looking up at the boat to which they were 
allotted in case of emergency, slung to its dav- 
its above them, thoughtfully contemplating its 
attachments, and they remarked to each other 
that one of the securing pins was rusted into 
its socket. 

Next day the civil servant was in his cabin, 
washing his hands before going to lunch, when 
there came the explosion. A confusing sense of 
stress and hurry instantly took him, but he 
acted coolly enough. He snatched his lifebelt, 
and quitted his cabin to go on deck. There was 
a lady standing motionless. He spoke to her, 
but she did not answer. He forced his lifebelt 
upon her, and ran back to his cabin to fetch his 
life-saving jacket. On his way up to the deck 
he received an impression of women and chil- 
dren huddled together in the corridors, and on 
the companion ladders, and some were moaning 
or crying out. Then there emerged from the 
hurried confusion another motionless figure of 



104 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

a lady, a Frenchwoman. The civil servant 
seized her, and somehow dragged her up the 
stairs. On deck someone took the lifebelt from 
her nerveless hand, put it about her, and pushed 
her into the water, whence she was afterwards 
rescued. The civil servant remembers seeing a 
steward carrying two babies. Coming to his 
boat on the port side, the civil servant found his 
friend in her, with another man, the carpenter 
and a seaman. Two aft and two forward, they 
were trying to lower the boat. The rusted pin 
had jammed. The friend cried out for an axe. 
The civil servant, climbing into the boat, caught 
up a broken oar and passed it to his friend, who 
knocked out the pin with it. 

Then the boat, being on the port side, which 
was sinking into the water, swung violently out- 
board and back again, striking the ship's side, 
and pitching one man into the sea. 

At the same time the next boat was being 
lowered, full of people, when the falls parted at 
one end, and the boat dropped perpendicular to 
the water, so that all the people were spilt into 
the sea. The falls parted at the other end of 
the boat, which then dropped on a level keel 
into the water, whence people struggled into 
her. While they were climbing in, another boat 
descended on the top of them, and thence into 
the water, so that people were crushed between 
the two boats. 

The civil servant's boat was cast loose, and 
the painter cut with a pocket knife, and then, 
as the boat was sucked right across the ship's 
stern, the ship went down. Those in the boat 



DOWN IN FIVE MINUTES 105 

sat helpless, their craft whirling in the smooth 
swell of the suction. 

They got out the oars and picked people from 
the water, until there were nearly fifty on hoard, 
five of whom were women. The civil servant 
remembers seeing a clergyman of his acquaint- 
ance, swimming steadily, and appearing per- 
fectly composed. They were unable to reach 
him. He also saw two capsized boats, on one 
of which were two Lascars, and on the other 
several Lascars. 

The chief officer's boat and the second offi- 
cer's boat joined company with the boat in which 
was the civil servant, and also with a fourth 
boat, which was also filled with survivors, and 
the chief officer took command of the flotilla. 
He ordered the boats to sail or row back to the 
place of the wreck, in order to look for more 
survivors. But the wind was against them; 
they could make no way; and they were blown 
in the opposite direction. 

It seems that two or three small vessels were 
sighted during the afternoon. At nightfall the 
chief officer anchored. After dark the castaways 
saw the lights of a steamer and burned flares, 
but the steamer went on. The next morning 
they saw a large vessel, and the second officer 
went away under sail to cross her course, but 
the ship, doubtless suspecting a trick of an en- 
emy submarine, altered course and went on. 

The people in the boats tossed and drifted in 
the sun and the heavy weather all that day. 
For food they had biscuits and for drink water. 
That night they again saw the lights of a ship 



106 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

and again burned flares. They saw the green 
light and then the red light glowing in a line, 
and knew that she was heading towards them. 

The lack of an officer to command the civil 
servant's boat nearly resulted in the loss of all 
on board, for as the ship drew nearer the passen- 
gers all stood up, and the boat,turningbroadside 
to the swell, was in imminent danger of capsizing. 

The rescuing ship was one of his Majesty's 
destroyers. 

In the fifth boat, which was separated from 
the others, was Lord Montagu of Beaulieu, who 
contributed an interesting account of his adven- 
tures to The Times of January 19th, 1916. 

Lord Montagu went down with his ship, came 
up, swam to a capsized boat and climbed on the 
keel. Clinging to the boat were many native 
seamen and a few Europeans. Several presently 
dropped off and sank. The boat righted herself 
on a wave, and the survivors climbed into her. 
She was badly damaged; her bows were split, 
there was a hole in her bottom, her air-tanks 
were broken ; and the men sat with the water to 
their knees. Every now and then she capsized in 
the swell. Several more of the native crew died 
from exhaustion. There was no water, nor any 
food except a few spoiled biscuits; and these 
were not discovered until the castaways had 
been thirty hours without sustenance. 

At night Lord Montagu saw the ship which 
the other boats' crews saw, and also the ship 
they sighted next morning. During the rest of 
the day nothing appeared; and by the evening 
Lord Montagu told his friend that there was 



DOWN IN FIVE MINUTES 107 

no hope, and his friend agreed. Lord Montagu 
records that he was oppressed by an immense 
drowsiness, which he was only just able to re- 
sist. But he fought against the sleep which, 
he believed, was death, because he intended to 
hold out to the last. 

About eight o'clock they saw a light, which 
they took at first to be a star. Then they 
descried the port and starboard lamps of a 
steamer, and all shouted together. The ship 
stopped, drew on again, there came a hail from 
her bridge, and her whistle was blown. When 
the officers of the vessel perceived the plight of 
the men in the boat, which was now "like a 
crushed eggshell, ' ' they brought the ship along- 
side, rove bowlines through a purchase, and 
hoisted the helpless castaways on board. So 
they were saved by the men of the merchant 
service. 

Of the 503 persons on board, 334 were lost, 
and 169 were saved. Among the lost were 121 
passengers, 166 native crew, 47 European crew. 
Among the saved were 65 passengers, 70 native 
crew, 34 European crew; and their salvation 
was due in the first instance to the promptitude, 
skill and resource of the ship's officers, who had 
only four minutes in which to do everything. 



xin 

The Raider 

i 
Gathering Them In 

This is the story of some of the British sea- 
men captured by the German commerce-de- 
stroyer Moewe, whose other name was Ponga, 
commanded by Count Dohna. That officer would 
seem to have studied the methods and the code 
of the late Captain Eaphael Semmes of the Ala- 
bama, the daring and punctilious privateersman 
who, in the American Civil War, inherited the 
traditions of the war of 1812 and of the Na- 
poleonic guerre de course preceding that cam- 
paign. As for the British seamen, I do but tell 
their own story. Count Dohna had the upper 
hand — there is no denying it; and the British 
masters had to swallow their gruel. Eesistance 
was useless; even so, the master of the Clan 
Mactavish fought, as you shall hear. 

On Tuesday, January 11th, 1916, the cargo- 
boat Corbridge was steaming nine knots in the 
North Atlantic in fine, clear weather. About 

108 



THE RAIDER 109 

two o'clock in the afternoon the master sighted 
a vessel coming np astern, abont five miles 
away. She was flying the red ensign and there 
was nothing remarkable about her. The master 
observed that she was gradually overhauling 
the Corbridge; then, at a quarter to four, he no- 
ticed that the stranger suddenly altered her 
course, steering towards another vessel, which 
was steaming in the opposite direction, some 
three miles away on the port bow. By this 
time the wind had freshened, and the sea was 
getting up, and now and again a rain-squall 
blotted out the two ships. As the squall blew 
away the master of the Corbridge saw the flash 
of guns and heard their reports, and perceived 
that the vessel first sighted was firing upon the 
steamer coming towards her. 

The master then understood that the strange 
vessel which had turned away from him was a 
German. There was nothing to do but to hold on 
his course with all speed, gaining what start he 
could while the enemy was engaged with the 
other ship. It was then four o'clock; the dusk was 
gathering; and if he could keep on for another 
hour, when it would be dark, he might escape. 

What was happening on board the ship at- 
tacked? She was the Farringford. When her 
master sighted the stranger at a quarter to 
four the stranger was flying the signal "What 
ship is that?" The master of the Farringford 
made no reply. Then the stranger hoisted 
"Stop. Abandon ship." The master of the 
Farringford, perceiving that the stranger, now 
within a quarter of a mile, was training guns 



110 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

upon the Farringford, stopped. Up went the 
German ensign, and there came a hail, "Aban- 
don ship at once." 

The master of the Farringford ordered the 
boats to be got away, secured his confidential 
papers, weighted them with a lead sinker, and 
hove them overboard. The crew had no time to 
collect their effects. They hurried into the 
boats, one able seaman breaking his leg in the 
process. There were twenty-two British and 
one Norwegian ; and, although they were under 
the guns of the German, they were perfectly 
cool and steady. The master left his ship last ; 
and as the boats pulled clear the Germans 
opened fire upon her. 

The master was taken up on the bridge 6f the 
German. By this time the two ships were no 
more than a hundred yards apart; five or six 
shots had been fired, and the master witnessed 
the discharge of a torpedo. It broke surface, 
swerved to the right, and passed about thirty 
feet ahead of the Farringford. But she was 
already sinking by the stern when the master 
was ordered below. 

The injured seaman had been taken to the 
sick bay, and the master found the rest of the 
crew on the between-deck, under an armed guard. 

But before he went below, and afterwards, 
when he was allowed on deck, the master of the 
Farringford took careful note of the German 
ship. His observations and the observations of 
other British captains, may here be given. 

The vessel was painted black. Apparently 
her original colour was white, as one of the mas- 



THE RAIDER 111 

ters noticed that there was a streak of white at 
the water-line. The master of the Farringford 
thought the original colour was slate. Showing 
through the final coat of paint were the blue and 
yellow stripes of the Swedish colours, which had 
apparently been blazoned for purposes of disguise. 
The name on the seamen's cap-ribbons were of 
various vessels, the name Moewe being carriedby 
the greater number. In the chart-house, under the 
displacement scale, the name Pong a was printed. 
All the masters refer to the ship as The Raider. 

The Raider was an armed merchant ship, 
cunningly altered at once to serve and to con- 
ceal her purpose. Her bulwarks were raised to 
the height of the poop deckhouse, and the pas- 
sage between the bulwarks and the deckhouse on 
either side was decked over, and closed by 
doors, from which 18-inch-gauge tram-lines ran 
to the torpedo-tubes abaft the foremast. On the 
deck above the poop, where the hand steering 
wheel would be, was a gun cased in canvas. In 
front of it was a dummy steering wheel. So 
far as can be made out from the reports, the 
real wheel was fixed in the roof of the deck- 
house, in the space between the roof and the 
new deck, in which a hatch opened, through 
which appeared the helmsman's head. 

High bulwarks closed in the upper deck, and 
in these hinged flaps or ports of sheet-iron con- 
cealed the upper deck guns. When the guns 
were manned, the ports dropped outwards. 

There were two guns under the forecastle, 
supposed to be 4.1-inch; two larger guns, one 
on either side, under the break of the forecastle ; 



112 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

one gun, also supposed to be a 4.1-inch, on the 
poop, as already described, and, so far as could 
be discovered, two guns under the poop. Total, 
seven guns. Abaft the foremast, between fore- 
mast and bridge, were two 18-inch torpedo- 
tubes. Two torpedoes in boxes were placed be- 
tween number 1 and number 2 hatches. The 
after-end of the hatches had been taken out, the 
coamings raised to three feet, and in this shel- 
ter were stowed five more torpedoes in cases. 

The use of the tram-lines was not discovered ; 
but it was surmised that they were part of the 
mine-dropping gear, the mines being stowed 
under the poop. 

There were two derricks, and two derricks on 
the mainmast. There was a wireless equipment. 

The Raider was fitted with a single screw, and 
her extreme speed was estimated at 14 — 15 
knots. The crew was estimated to number 
something under 300 men. 

The personal appearance (though not the 
manners) of the commander of this remarkable 
vessel escapes us. 

The first officer, Lieutenant Robert Kohlen, 
is described in true seaman's fashion as 5 feet 
8 inches, fair, long face, twenty-eight years of 
age, clean shaven, refined. Another officer, as 
stout, twenty-eight years of age, clean shaven, 
flushed countenance. 

Another officer, one Kohl, known as "the 
technical officer,' ' or, quaintly, as the "explo- 
sives expert," seems to have been a talker. 
He boasted that he had invented the mine which 
blew up H.M.S. King Edward VII. 



THE RAIDER US 

Lieutenant Berg, described as a most cour- 
teous officer, sharp-featured, with a small black 
moustache, was subsequently placed in com- 
mand of the prize crew in the Appam. 

There seem to have been four lieutenants and 
a doctor besides the captain and first officer. 
Officers and men wore German naval uniform. 

Such was the ship, such were the officers, as 
observed by various British masters and men 
under painful conditions. 

While the master and the crew of the Far- 
ringford were sitting under the armed guard 
on the 'tween-decks of the Raider, the Corbridge 
was desperately piling on coal in the hope of 
escaping a like catastrophe, or, for aught her 
people knew, worse. Within half an hour after 
she had sighted the Far ring ford and saw the 
Raider's attack, the Corbridge was spurred by 
a shot, whistling over her funnel. During the 
next three-quarters of an hour projectiles ar- 
rived at intervals, the Raider, which was over- 
hauling her quarry, being then three or four 
miles astern. At ten minutes past five, the mas- 
ter of the Corbridge stopped. By this time it 
was dark, and it was impossible to discern what 
colours the strange vessel was flying. 

But the master of the Corbridge had been un- 
der the stranger's fire; he had seen her attack, 
and conjectured that she had sunk another ves- 
sel; and he knew that the stranger's speed was 
superior to his own. It was clear, therefore, 
that the stranger was an armed German cruiser ; 
that she could sink the Corbridge at anything 
up to five miles' range; and that she could 



114. THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

close on the Corbridge at will. He could not 
fight the German, not having the wherewithal, 
nor could he perceive any reasonable chance of 
escape. He was confronted with the inevi- 
table. So he stopped and accepted it with the 
seaman's stoicism. 

A signal lamp winked a question upon the 
dark: "What ship?" The master signalled 
' ' Corbridge. ' ' Then the stranger flashed • * Ger- 
man cruiser. Abandon ship immediately. ' ' 

The master made his preparations according- 
ly. Half an hour later a boat drew alongside, and 
a German officer with an armed party climbed on 
board. The officer took the ship's papers and 
the master's chronometer, for which he kindly 
gave the master a receipt, and ordered him to 
go on board the German ship, with his crew. 

The ship's company of the Corbridge num- 
bered twenty-six; of which thirteen were Brit- 
ish, two were naturalised British, three were 
Finns, four were Greeks, three were Scandina- 
vians, and one was a Spaniard. 

The German officer seems to have called for 
volunteers to serve under him, for eight of the 
foreign seamen agreed to sign on for two pounds 
a month more than they had been receiving from 
the owners of the Corbridge. The four Greeks, 
the three Scandinavians, and the Spaniard re- 
mained in the Corbridge in the German service, 
to work the ship with the German prize crew. 
The master, and eighteen of the crew, went on 
board the Raider, taking such personal effects 
as they could carry. The German officer sent 
some of the Corbridge' 's live stock to the Raider. 



THE RAIDER 115 

To the master of the Farringford, then, sitting 
on the dark 'tween-decks with his crew, entered 
the master of the Corbridge with his men. What 
they said to one another is not recorded. Prob- 
ably "Up against it, then?" and probably they 
proceeded to exchange narratives. 

At some period of the sojourn of the master 
of the Corbridge in the Raider, the pleasant offi- 
cer called the Explosives Expert showed to the 
master a box containing bombs, possibly hand- 
grenades, which, said the Explosives Expert, 
would be used were any attempt made by the 
captives to take the Raider. 

For the time being the Raider and the Cor- 
bridge proceeded in company. On that Tues- 
day, January 11th, 1916, the Raider thus set 
two ships to her score. 

On the following day, Wednesday, at five 
o'clock in the afternoon, the Corbridge parted 
company. 

The captives were allowed to come on deck 
for exercise for two hours in the morning and 
two hours in the afternoon, unless another ves- 
sel was sighted, when they were kept below. 
Each man had mattress and blankets. For 
breakfast, they had brown bread and butter 
and tea; for lunch, soup; for tea, more brown 
bread and butter and tea; for supper, noth- 
ing. The bread is said to have been good, other 
victuals not so good, but sufficient. They were 
furnished with tin plates, spoons and cups. 

On Thursday, January 13th, the second day 
after the taking of the Corbridge and Farring- 
fordy about noon, the captives heard the report 



116 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

of a gun overhead. Was another hapless Brit- 
ish ship being held up? They waited. Pres- 
ently they heard three distant blasts of a steam 
whistle, and after an interval down to the 
'twe en-decks came twenty men from the 
Dromonby. A little later, down came the master. 

The master told his story. It was the usual 
story. He was steaming at eight knots when he 
sighted a ship off the starboard bow. She was 
flying no colours. She hoisted the signal ' ' What 
ship?" To which the Dromonby replied, giving 
her name. Then, "Stop and abandon ship." 
Up went the German ensign, and a shot cried 
over the Dromonby. The report of the gun 
fetched the master out of his cabin to the 
bridge, whence he beheld an armed ship close to. 
The master put the Dromonby astern and blew 
three blasts on the whistle. The master ordered 
the crew into the boats, burned his confidential 
papers, and stood by his ship. A boarding 
party from the Raider came on board and 
searched the ship. They were looking for a 
gun, for which the ship was fitted, but which was 
not there. The Germans were very anxious 
about that gun. They opened the sea-cocks, 
placed three bombs in the ship's vitals, and re- 
turned to the Raider, carrying the master with 
them. 

While he was relating these matters to his 
fellow-prisoners, there came the muffled sound 
of three distant explosions, and the crack of 
three gunshots fired overhead. And that was 
the end of the Dromonby. 

Our friend the Explosives Expert afterwards 



THE RAIDER 117 

told the master of the Dromoriby that the 
Raider carried six-inch guns. But the master's 
observation of the ammunition did not confirm 
the statement of the Explosives Expert. 

That Thursday was a busy day for the Raider. 
She was picking ships from the Atlantic trade 
route from morn to night. 

At about five in the afternoon the prisoners 
below heard a clatter and a running to and fro 
on deck, and the splash of boats going away. 
Another ship? They waited and listened, until 
down came the master and the ship's company 
of the Author, eleven British and forty-seven 
Lascars. 

The master of the Author told his story. It 
was the same in substance as the others. But 
he mentioned that the German officer in com- 
mand of the boarding party returned to the 
master his chronometer, saying that he did not 
desire personal property. In respecting pri- 
vate property the German officer followed the 
code of Captain Raphael Semmes; but in re- 
spect of the chronometer, there was a difference, 
for Semmes used to collect chronometers. The 
Alabama was stocked with them. The German 
officer kept a bull-dog which was a passenger 
in the Author, but the bull-dog was really cargo. 
He also took food, live-stock, the ship's instru- 
ments, and the boats. The Raider then sank 
the Author. The forty-seven Lascars were 
berthed aft, put to work, and were ultimately 
retained by the Raider. 

The master of the Author came on board the 
Raider about five o'clock on that Thursday, 



118 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

joining the mess of the masters of the Farring- 
ford, Corbridge, and Dromoriby. Two hours 
later the master of the Trader was added to the 
party. He saw his ship sunk while he was in 
his boat, pulling across to the Raider. The 
Trader was laden with sugar. Her crew con- 
sisted of twenty-two British, six Swedes, one 
Norwegian, one Russian, one Malay and one 
American; all came on board the Raider, and 
all lacked their personal effects, which they had 
no time to collect. 

On the following day, Friday, January 14th, 
1916, nothing happened. 

On Saturday, 15th January, the game began 
early, with the arrival on board at seven in the 
morning of the master and ship's company of 
the Ariadne. The Raider was becoming 
crowded, having on board by this time the offi- 
cers and men of the Farringford, Corbridge, 
Dromonby, Trader and Ariadne, like a new 
house-that-Jack-built. But relief was on its 
way, as the German officers (according to their 
own statement) knew. 

ii 

The Taking of the " Appam" 

On that Saturday the Appam, homeward- 
bound, was steering to pass 100 miles west of 
Cape Finisterre. She was an Elder Dempster 
liner of 4,761 tons net, carrying a crew number- 
ing about 144, and 158 passengers, including 
naval and military officers, and ladies, and some 
German prisoners. She also carried bullion to 



THE RAIDER 119 

the value of £36,000. She was fitted with wire- 
less and mounted a gun. 

At about half-past two in the afternoon the 
second officer, who was on watch, perceiving a 
cargo-boat of unusual appearance approaching, 
altered course to turn away from her. The 
stranger immediately made a signal ordering 
the Appam to stop, and her wireless operator 
to cease sending. The master, going on the 
bridge, and perceiving the stranger to hoist the 
German ensign, obeyed. The Eaider fired a 
shot across the bows of the Appam and then 
across her stern, approached, and lowered 
a boat with an officer and armed crew on board. 
She was within 200 yards of the Appam, her 
shutters dropped and her guns visible. The 
master described this spectacle as "a great 
shock" to him, as no doubt it was. 

The officer and men boarded the Appam, to 
the intense interest of the passengers. Lieuten- 
ant Berg, the German officer in command, went 
up on the bridge and conversed with the mas- 
ter. The lieutenant courteously requested all 
information concerning the ship; ordered the 
purser to bring to him the ship's papers, put 
the master under arrest, and told him to pack 
his things and repair aboard the Raider, tak- 
ing with him the officers and the deck hands. 

Thus did the master join his colleagues in the 
Raider that Saturday afternoon. 

In the meantime a naval seaman on board the 
Appam called for volunteers, and led them to 
dismantle the gun. They managed to dislocate 



120 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

part of the gear when the Germans stopped 
them, and hove the gun overboard. 

The women on board, perceiving the Raider, 
put on life-belts, a precaution which pained 
Lieutenant Berg, who addressed them with ut- 
most politeness. 

"It hurts me," said Lieutenant Berg, "to see 
you ladies in these things. Please take them 
off. You will be quite safe. We are not going 
to sink a ship with women on board. ' ' 

That chivalrous officer had indeed other uses 
for the Appam, which was to serve as escort to 
the Raider. Lieutenant Berg proceeded to 
make his arrangements. He took from arrest 
the German prisoners on board, armed them, 
and, to their deep disgust, put them on guard 
duty. He presented to the civilian passengers 
of military age a form of declaration that they 
would not take up arms against Germany or her 
Allies during the war, and requested them to 
sign it. One man, who refused, was sent on 
board the Raider. The bullion on board was 
transferred to the Raider. The naval and mili- 
tary passengers on board the Appam, the naval 
ratings, and Sir Edward Merewether, ex-Gov- 
ernor of Sierra Leone, were transferred to the 
Raider. 

The master of the Appam, coming on board 
the Raider, remarked that her crew were paint- 
ing her upper works white, and that her hull 
was black, the paint being still wet. The cap- 
tain of the Raider informed the master that if 
the Appam had attempted to escape or to use 
her wireless, she would have been sunk. Then 



THE RAIDER 121 

the master was sent below, where he found his 
fellow captains, crowded together in the foul 
and airless 'tween-decks. 

For the time being the Appam, in charge of 
Lieutenant Berg and a prize crew, remained in 
company with the Raider. 

The next day, Sunday, January 16th, in the 
late afternoon, the master and some of the 
other prisoners in the Raider were on deck, 
when they perceived smoke on the horizon. 
They were promptly ordered below. The 
Raider increased her speed. The ship sighted 
was the famous Clan Mactavish. 

in 
The Fight of the "Clem Mactavish" 

The Raider was keeping the Appam in com- 
pany, under the command of Lieutenant Berg 
with a prize crew, so that in attack both ships 
could be employed. The Germans had dis- 
mounted the gun on board the Appam, but the 
prize crew were armed; and, for all that the 
ship attacked could tell, both ships carried guns. 
When, for instance, the Clan Mactavish was at- 
tacked, the master had to reckon with the pos- 
sibility of the second ship in sight also opening 
fire, a circumstance which should be remem- 
bered. 

Thus, at half -past four on that fine Sunday 
afternoon, the chief officer of the Clan Mactav- 
ish sighted two steamers some distance away on 
the port side. Both were steering the same 
course. About half an hour later the chief offi- 



122 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

cer noticed that one ship altered course 
towards him, while the other made as if to pass 
astern of him, though, as he subsequently dis- 
covered, her real intention was to head him off. 
At half -past five the third officer came on the 
bridge, and the chief officer pointed out to him 
the two steamers, among others which were 
then in sight. Twenty minutes later, when it 
was falling dusk, as one of the suspicious ves- 
sels was rapidly closing the Clan Mactavish, 
she called up the Clan Mactavish by a Morse 
lamp, and was answered. Then the stranger 
signalled "What ship is that!" 

At this point the chief officer reported the 
situation to the master, who ordered that no 
reply should be made. The stranger repeated 
her question. The master then signalled back 
i i Who are you 1 ' ' to which the stranger replied, 
"Author, of Liverpool" (that vessel had been 
sent to the bottom on the preceding Thursday). 
The master in return signalled "Clan Mactav- 
ish/' Then the stranger, who by this time 
was abaft the beam of the Clan Mactavish, 
signalled "Stop at once. We are a German 
cruiser. Don't use wireless." 

The master of the Clan Mactavish acted in- 
stantly. He ordered the engine-room staff to 
give all possible speed and the wireless opera- 
tor to send out the ship's call letters and her 
position. Then he ran to look out the code 
signals he wanted. 

The Eaider dropped her gun-screens and 
opened fire at a range of about 300 yards. The 
second shot entered the steward's room on the 



THE RAIDER 123 

port side, bursting on contact and blowing to 
pieces the steward's room and the second offi- 
cer's room. 

At this moment the master was busy looking 
out signals; the firemen below were piling on 
coal; the wireless operator was sending con- 
tinuously; the gunner was standing by the 
bridge and asking for orders, while the Raider 
went on firing. The chief officer went to the 
master, who told him to reply to the enemy, 
whereupon the gunner opened fire upon her, 
the apprentice running to and fro with ammu- 
nition. 

It was a short action and a sharp. The Raider 
got in eleven rounds, the Clan Mactavish four or 
five. The Clan Mactavish was hit on the fore- 
deck beside the windlass, then on the water-line. 
Her engines stopped. Then a shell entered the 
engine-room skylight, smashed the steering- 
engine, killed fifteen coloured firemen and 
wounded four, and filled the engine-room with 
scalding steam. The Clan Mactavish was done. 
She signalled, but apparently the Raider failed 
to read the lamp, for the Raider fired another 
round. Then the Raider ceased fire and sig- 
nalled that she was sending a boat. 

Presently two German officers with an armed 
crew of seven men came on board. One of the 
officers asked the master the characteristically 
German question why he fired, to which the 
master replied, to defend himself. 

The German officers then lined up the Euro- 
peans on deck, and ordered the native comple- 



124* THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

ment into the boats. There stood the officers 
and men of the Clan Mactavish, amid the 
splinters and wreckage and blood, the steam 
still hissing into the dark from the engine-room, 
and contemplated their armed guard and the 
proceedings of their captors. The German offi- 
cers told the people of the Clan Mactavish that 
if they moved they would be shot. So they 
stood still, while the Germans destroyed the 
gun, and sent the ship's carpenter to sound the 
well. At first there was no water, but a little 
after it was coming in, probably through the 
hole in the water-line. 

The people of the Clan Mactavish were or- 
dered into the boats, two of which were directed 
to go to the Raider and two to the Appam. The 
master and the two gunners went to the Raider, 
where they were treated as prisoners of war ; a 
correct procedure, inasmuch as in resisting cap- 
ture they became combatants. 

The Clan Mactavish was sunk, probably by 
bombs. The explosion occurred about 8.30. 
She sank slowly. The third officer, half an hour 
later, saw the last of his ship. Her decks were 
awash, and the red ensign was flying. 

In the meantime the British prisoners on 
board the Raider, huddled on the 'tween-deck, 
hearkened to the guns, not without emotion. 
It occurred to them that if the Raider's antag- 
onist was a ship of war, they might expect the 
Raider to go down with them. In any case, at 
any moment a shell might burst on the 'tween- 
decks. But it was speedily evident that the 



THE RAIDER 125 

guns of the Eaider were overpowering the other 
vessel. 

And in due time the officers and men of the 
Clan Mactavish joined the party. The third 
engineer was slightly wounded. 

Did the Clan Mactavish hit the Raider! 
Probably she did. The Germans were naturally 
reticent on the subject. But the Raider stopped 
at midnight for a time, and the coolies among 
the prisoners aboard, who had been set to work, 
told the chief officer of the Clan Mactavish that 
two Germans were then buried. Lieutenant 
Berg seems to have told an American news- 
paper that one German was killed and two were 
wounded. 

Admiral Sir John Jellicoe, who was then in 
command of the Grand Fleet, when the first 
news of the fight came to him, telegraphed to 
the owners of the Clan Mactavish: 

"The magnificent fight shown by the Clan 
Mactavish fills us in the Grand Fleet with ad- 
miration. We sympathise deeply with those who 
have lost relatives as a result of the action." 

The master of the Clan Mactavish did not 
know how many guns the Raider mounted. 
What he did know was that he was heavily out- 
matched, and that he might also be attacked 
by the second ship. But at close range, even 
with his light gun, he may have reckoned that 
he had a sporting chance. But very likely he 
did not reckon at all, but simply resolved not to 
be taken without a fight. When he comes back 
from Germany, where he is a prisoner of war, 
he may tell us. 



126 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

IV 

The " Appam" as Prize 

On the morning of the day following the 
sinking of the Clan Mactavish, Monday, Janu- 
ary 17th, 1916, the Raider and the Appam were 
proceeding westwards at full speed. In the 
afternoon the prisoners on board the Raider, 
excepting the people of the Clan Mactavish, 
received orders to prepare to leave the ship. 
The masters of the Corbridge, Far ring ford, 
Dromoriby, Author, Trader, Appam and Ari- 
adne were summoned to the presence of the cap- 
tain of the Raider, Count Donna, who received 
them in the chart-room. That officer informed 
the captives of his bow and spear that they were 
to be transhipped to the Appam, Count Dohna 
then read to them the instructions he had given 
to Lieutenant Berg, in command of the Appam, 
These were to the effect that if the prisoners 
made the slightest attempt at riot or mutiny, 
the Appam would instantly be blown up; that 
if an enemy (Allied) cruiser attacked the Ap- 
pam the prisoners, if time allowed, would be 
put into boats, when the ship would be de- 
stroyed ; for, said the Count, she was in charge 
of men who would sacrifice their lives rather 
than she should be retaken. All being well, the 
Count added, the masters and crews would be 
taken to a safe port. Having made an end of his 
plain statement, Count Dohna shook hands all 
round and signified that the audience was over. 

At four o'clock that afternoon the masters 
and men of the seven vessels were sent across 



THE RAIDER 127 

to the Appam. With them were a part of the 
crew of the Clan Mactavish, the passenger, "a 
Birmingham man," who had refused to sign the 
declaration of neutrality, and Sir Edward Mere- 
wether. The transhipment was finished by 6.30. 

The prisoners on board the Appam were 
guarded by the German ex-prisoners. They 
were allowed the run of the ship below the boat- 
deck, and were classified as first, second and 
third-class passengers, and had "no complaints, 
but not too much to eat. ' ' It was no doubt the 
impossibility of feeding so large a number, and 
the inconvenience of keeping them on board a 
fighting ship, that decided the commander of 
the Raider to ship them off in the Appam to a 
neutral port. In so doing he acted with human- 
ity, for he must have known that he was risking 
the internment of his prize when she touched 
America. With German forethought and pre- 
cision the Appam was dispatched at the moment 
when the amount of rations left would just en- 
able her to reach port. One of the masters re- 
ported that when they fetched up, there was 
very little left, but ' ' no one looked any the worse 
for it." 

The engineer on board the Appam was or- 
dered to keep nine knots. If smoke was sighted, 
the Appam turned away from it to avoid pur- 
suit and increased her speed. Her wireless 
operator was constantly at work. In case of 
emergency a bomb was placed in the engine- 
room in charge of two sentries. 

For twenty-four hours the Appam kept in 



128 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

company with the Raider, which then dis- 
appeared. 

On February 1st, 1916, after a fortnight's 
voyage, the Appam arrived in Hampton Roads, 
U.S.A. On the following day the British masters 
were allowed to go on shore to see the British 
naval attache. The next day, after various 
formalities, the Appam went to Newport News, 
where the British prisoners were set free. They 
parted from Lieutenant Berg on excellent terms. 
According to their testimony, the politeness of 
the Germans throughout was "most marked.' ' 

The released captives went to New York. It 
must have been a pleasant change. 

On July 29th following, the Federal Court of 
Norfolk, Virginia, decided the case of the Ap- 
pam in favour of the British owners, holding 
that the German Government lost all legal claim 
upon the Appam when she was brought into 
neutral waters with the intention of laying her 
up for an indefinite period. 

v 

Subsequent Glimpses of the Raider 

After parting company with the Appam, the 
Raider steered for the mouth of the Amazon, 
where she arrived towards the end of January. 
On January 27th the Corbridge, which had beon 
captured on the 11th and placed in charge of a 
prize crew, arrived according to instructions; 
and during the three following days the Raider 
was coaling from her. On January 30th the 
Raider sank the Corbridge, and so departed. 



THE RAIDER 129 

By February 9th the steamships Horace and 
Flamenco, the sailing ship Edinburgh, and the 
Belgian steamship Luxembourg were put down, 
and the steamship Westbum was captured and 
put in charge of a prize crew. On February 9th 
the chief officer and others of the people of the 
Clan Mactavish were sent on board the West- 
burn and were subsequently landed at Teneriffe. 

The captain and the two naval gunners and 
the Lascars of the Clan Mactavish were kept on 
board the Raider. 

On February 23rd, the Raider sank the West- 
burn in Spanish territorial waters. 

On February 25th the Raider sank the Saxon 
Prince. Three days later the Raider was in the 
North Sea, her funnels transformed from grey 
to yellow with black tops, and the Swedish 
colours blazoned on either side the hull. 

Early in March the Raider entered a German 
port. 

According to the statement made by the First 
Lord of the Admiralty on March 28th, 1916, the 
toll of British ships captured or sunk by the 
Raider is as follows: Farrmgford, Corbridge, 
Author, Bromonby, Trader, Clan Mactavish, 
Horace, Flamenco, Edinburgh, Saxon Prince, 
Westbum, Appam. To these must be added 
the Ariadne and the Belgian steamship Luxem- 
bourg. 

The English admire nothing so much as the 
success of an enemy. 



XIV 

A Gallant Warning 

On a pleasant May morning in the year 1916 
a company assembled in a room of the Eoyal 
Naval Reserve barracks of a South Coast port 
Here were officers and men of the Royal Navy 
and of the mercantile marine, come to do honour 
to a merchant ship master. That officer had 
been as near to death as may be ; not (you will 
say) an unusual circumstance; but he dared 
everything to save others. Therefore you may 
behold with the inward eye of retrospection a 
commander of the Royal Navy handing a gold 
watch to the embarrassed master, who is not 
accustomed to these ceremonies, and who finds 
a difficulty in discovering the right responses in 
the ritual. 

The commander explains that, as the legend 
engraven on the watch testifies, it is presented 
to the master "by the London Group of War 
Risk Associations, with the approval of the 
Admiralty, in recognition of his efforts to save 
other ships from contact with German mines on 
February 12th, 1916.' ' 

And how did the master do it? 

130 



A GALLANT WARNING 131 

He was taking the little steamship Cedarwood 
down the East Coast, bound for France laden 
with pig-iron. There was half a gale of wind, 
and there was a choppy sea. It was about ten 
o 'clock in the morning when the look-out seaman 
perceived a floating mine. Off the starboard 
bow the bright scarlet of the mine gleamed in 
and out the waves. Now where there is one 
mine there are probably others, especially if 
they are sown by an enemy submarine in the 
coastwise track of shipping; and there were 
some fifteen vessels steaming at various dis- 
tances astern of the Cedarwood. 

The master did not hesitate for an instant. 
He eased down, hoisted flags signifying " sub- 
marine mines are about,' ' and made the same 
signal with steam whistle. Then he steamed in 
a circle about the mine, in order both to attract 
a patrol boat and to show to the ships following 
him where was the danger. 

Thus the master swung the Cedarwood 
through the circle which was almost certain to 
intersect the line of mines, if other mines there 
were. And if there were, they would be moored 
out of sight at a depth beneath the surface 
nicely calculated to strike the hull of the Cedar- 
wood. So small a vessel striking a mine would 
be blown to atoms. 

Nevertheless the master continued to circum- 
navigate the scarlet floating mine for about a 
quarter of an hour. 

"At about 10.20 a.m.," so runs the master's 
report, l ' I was on the bridge together with the 
mate, when I heard a terrible explosion, and the 



132 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

fore end of the ship seemed to go up in the air, 
also some of the pig-iron cargo, at the same time 
where I was standing (the upper bridge) seemed 
to fall underneath me. I did not see the mate 
again, and was sucked down with the ship, and 
I have a recollection of getting hold of the 
flagstaff on the stern, therefore I must have been 
carried right aft with the force of the water. ' ' 

This simple statement is singularly illuminat- 
ing. The tremendous shock and paralysing in- 
stancy of the explosion inhibit verification by 
the senses of what is happening. Therefore the 
master says the fore end of the ship "seemed" 
to go up in the air, and the bridge "seemed" to 
fall under him. As a matter of fact both these 
things did happen, and they happened simulta- 
neously. The master partially lost consciousness, 
for he did not remember being swept aft, buried 
in water. He thinks he must have been so swept, 
because he recalls clutching the flagstaff astern. 
It would seem, therefore, that an explosion par- 
tially or wholly paralyses consciousness, and 
most often effects an instant annihilation. 

The master was drawn down with the frag- 
ments of the ship, smashed machinery and 
masses of pig-iron. He struggled to the surface, 
saw a hatch floating, swam to it, and clung to it. 
Then, over the breaking sea, he perceived the 
stern of a steamer, and a white boat surging 
towards him. He saw the men in the boat haul 
first one man and then another from the water, 
and then he was helped on board. On the way 
back the boat picked up another seaman who 
was floating on a piece of wreckage, and the 



A GALLANT WARNING 133 

four soaked, dazed and shivering men were 
brought on board the steamer, where ' l they were 
all very kindly treated. ' ' In the meantime two 
more men were rescued by another steamer. 
Both these vessels, with the rest sailing on that 
route, had been saved by the sacrifice of the 
Cedarwood. Six men, including the master, 
were rescued; six were drowned. 

The next day, Sunday, early in the morning, 
there rose upon the master's grateful vision the 
grey spire of Gravesend Church, known to sea- 
men all the world over as the half-way mark be- 
tween the Nore and Port of London ; and the hill 
of huddled red-roofed houses, and the water- 
men coming alongside in their black wherries. 

Presently the master landed beside the old 
taverns leaning upon one another along the 
river-wall, and trod once more the grey stones 
of the deserted streets, sunk in Sunday quiet. 



XV 

The Fight of the "Goldmouth" 

The wireless operator lay in hospital, because 
his foot had been blown off, and beside his bed, 
writing down his statements, sat a naval officer. 
"The last message received was in code, which 
I took to the captain on the bridge to be decoded, 
but this was not done owing to the fact that the 
captain had thrown overboard the code-book, 
the vessel being then in imminent danger of 
capture. ' ' 

Such, in fact, was the situation on board the 
Goldmouth on the afternoon of March 31st, 1916. 
She was homeward bound, carrying oil, and was 
within some hours of the Channel, steaming 
about ten knots. At about twenty minutes to 
one the master descried the conning tower of 
a submarine rising out of the water some three 
miles away on the starboard beam, and ap- 
proaching the Goldmouth. Ten minutes after- 
wards the submarine opened fire. 

Then began a running fight waged furiously 
for more than an hour. The submarine, mount- 
ing two guns, fired about ten rounds a minute, 
at a range longer than the range of the single 
small gun carried by the Goldmouth. 

134 



THE FIGHT OF THE "GOLDMOUTH" 135 

The master hoisted his colours half-mast, and 
gave the order to open fire. Thereafter the two 
gunners of the Goldmouth served their little gun 
as best they might, under the continuous fire of 
the submarine. A shell smashed half the bridge 
of the Goldmouth, another pierced the deck and 
exploded in an oil tank, the officers' cabins 
were wrecked, the hull was pierced in several 
places, and the oil oozed through the holes and 
spread upon the sea. Soon after the fight began, 
the main steam pipe was damaged and the speed 
of the Goldmouth dropped to three or four 
knots. 

So the stricken vessel, firing about once a 
minute, crawled through the spreading surface 
of oil, splinters flying, shot after shot striking 
her. The master remained on the bridge. The 
wireless operator, true to his service, continued 
to send out calls for help. He worked under 
great disabilities. Amid the incessant firing, it 
was almost impossible to hear the answers he 
received. But answers were sent from a distant 
patrol vessel. She was too far away to arrive 
in time to help the Goldmouth, but she seems to 
have signalled in plain language the course the 
Goldmouth was to steer. The code messages could 
not be accurately decoded because the master 
had thrown overboard his confidential papers. 

Towards the end of the affair the wireless 
operator had his foot blown off. It is extraor- 
dinary that the only other casualty was the loss 
of a finger suffered by a Chinaman. 

By a little after two o'clock the gunners of 
the Goldmouth had expended the whole of their 



U6 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

ammunition. Outranged and out-gunned, they 
had not scored a single hit. The Goldmouth 
was totally disabled. Having done all that it 
was possible to do, the master decided to aban- 
don his ship. 

The chief officer stated in evidence that he 
considered "the master complied with Admir- 
alty instructions and took all possible steps to 
avoid being captured or sunk. The ship's speed 
was greatly reduced owing to steam-pipe being 
hit by shells, and she was outdistanced by the 
submarine. The ship was hopelessly outclassed 
in guns, and only stopped firing when all ammu- 
nition had been expended and ship disabled." 

Such is the official testimony, officially 
phrased. The master's evidence is not avail- 
able, for a reason which will appear. 

He ordered the crew into boats. There were 
only two left, a lifeboat and a smaller boat. 
Three lifeboats and a smaller boat had been 
smashed by shells. By this time the submarine 
was close to the Goldmouth. The German 
officer ordered the boats to come alongside the 
submarine. The master was haled on board, 
where the Germans greeted him with curses and 
threatenings. Many Germans believe that any 
resistance to their sovereign will is a kind of 
blasphemy. The commander of the submarine 
took the master prisoner, and a prisoner he 
remains. 

The Germans, upon being asked to give first- 
aid dressings to the wounded wireless operator 
and the Chinaman, refused. 

The German officer ordered the boats away, 



THE FIGHT OF THE "GOLDMOUTH" 137 

and again opened fire on the Goldmouth. He 
fired sixty rounds, and discharged two tor- 
pedoes at close range, and so sank the ship. 
Then he went away. 

The two boats pulled for three hours, when 
they were rescued by a trawler. 

The crew of the Goldmouth consisted of 
twelve British and forty-seven Chinamen. ' ' All 
behaved well, especially the British.' ' 



XVI 

The Worth of a Life 

Serene moonlight, and a big cargo-boat roll- 
ing eastwards midmost of the Mediterranean, 
the watch on deck savouring the breath of the 
cool night. It was midnight of July 15th-16th, 
1916. Save for the murmur of the engines, there 
was silence, and the darkened and flashing field 
of water was empty. Then, low down on the 
surface, there shone a tongue of fire; there 
came the detonation of a gun, sudden and 
startling, and a shell whined in the air some- 
where near the Virginia. The master, who was 
below in his cabin, ran up to the bridge. 

As the master came up he found the firemen 
rushing up from the stokehold, and ordered 
them below again. 

At first the master could see nothing; and, 
not knowing whence or by whom the shot was 
fired, he stopped the engines. Then he descried 
the conning-tower of a submarine five or six 
hundred yards astern and overhauling him. 
The master instantly ordered full speed ahead 
and steered to keep the enemy astern. 

The submarine fired, and continued to fire. 

138 



THE WORTH OF A LIFE 189 

Then began a chase in which the submarine, with 
her high speed and small turning circle, easily- 
countered the manoeuvres of the hunted ship, 
keeping steadily on her port quarter. The fire- 
men stuck to their work, but nine and a half 
knots was the best the ship could do. Now and 
again she was hit. The Virginia was unarmed. 
The master ordered the wireless operator to 
send the distress call, S.O.S., and he received 
from some unknown ship the reply "Coming." 
But no ship came. The master, in case of 
emergencies, destroyed his confidential papers, 
and held on. Whether or not some of the crew 
were wounded during the chase is uncertain. 

After half an hour a shell smashed the funnel, 
filling the engine-room with soot and ashes, 
whereupon the engineers and firemen came on 
deck, and the master decided that the game was 
up. He stopped the ship and ordered the men 
into the boats. The submarine continued to fire. 

There was the stricken ship, rolling in a cloud 
of smoke and steam, the boats rising and falling 
alongside, the men scrambling down the life- 
lines, and, beyond, the submarine leisurely fir- 
ing. The shells struck the ship and the splinters 
flew among the hurrying men. Ten of them 
were wounded. 

Twenty-five men got away in three boats and 
rowed clear of the ship. The fourth boat had 
been hit and was lying alongside full of water. 
The master, the chief officer and twenty-three 
others were left on board to get away as best 
they might. The chief engineer, the wireless 
operator and the chief steward, the carpenter 



140 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

and a seaman stayed by the master and chief 
officer and helped them to get the men into the 
water-logged boat. They were all embarked, as, 
in the stress and tumult, they believed, except 
the master and the chief officer, when the master 
discovered a wounded man of the native crew. 
The chief officer stayed to help the master lift 
the helpless man and lower him into the boat. 

At the same time they perceived the white 
track of a torpedo swiftly lengthening towards 
the ship, saw it strike the hull, glance off, and 
turn back. At about sixty yards' distance it 
exploded, flinging up a column of water. 

The master and the chief officer had lowered 
the wounded man into the boat, when they saw 
the track of another torpedo. They were still 
on board when the torpedo struck the Virginia 
full under the main rigging, port side, below the 
water-line, tearing her to pieces. Instantly she 
settled down, and the master and the chief 
officer were drawn down with her. But she did 
not sink at once. The master, struggling to the 
surface, laid hold on her bows, and drew breath. 
Then down she went, and down with her again 
went the master. He came up again and was 
hauled into the water-logged boat. 

The chief officer was never seen again. He 
lost his life because he remained with the mas- 
ter to help him to save the wounded man. 

Exactly what happened to the water-logged 
and crowded boat lying alongside when the ship 
went down is not clear. She was drawn down 
with the ship, but she seems to have kept right 
side up. In any case, she remained afloat, and 



THE WORTH OF A LIFE 141 

an hour and a half afterwards she was picked 
up by a French patrol boat. 

Whether or not the submarine dived after 
firing the second torpedo and departing, the 
master was unable to state, because, as he says, 
he "was under the water at the time. ,, 

While these things were happening in the 
Virginia two of the other three boats were 
standing off, and the third officer in the other 
boat was ordered by the commander of the 
submarine to come alongside. The submarine 
captain asked the third officer for information 
concerning the ship, and then inquired if there 
were still people on board her. He then ordered 
the third officer to bring to him the master and 
the ship 's papers, giving him thirty minutes to 
go and come. 

About four minutes after the third officer had 
left the submarine her commander fired the 
first torpedo. By that time the French patrol 
boat was in sight ; and it may be supposed that 
the submarine officer, seeing the enemy, aban- 
doned his intention of saving the captain and 
the rest of the crew, and decided swiftly to end 
the business. As he did. 

The submarine officers wore blue tunics with 
high collars, and their caps differed from the 
German pattern. The men wore jerseys open 
at the neck. The submarine was new painted 
grey above her water-line when running awash, 
and black below. She mounted one gun forward 
of the conning-tower. Presumably she was 
Austrian. 
All the boats of the Virginia were picked up 



142 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

]by the French patrol boat. One of the wounded 
men died on board her, and was buried at sea. 
The rescued men " received great kindness" 
from their French hosts in the patrol vessel. 

In the following September the master was 
awarded by the Board of Trade a silver medal 
for having remained on board the sinking vessel 
in order to rescue a wounded native seaman. 



XVII 

The Engineers of the "Yser" 

On the night of July 19th, 1915, the little 
cargo-boat Yser, on the way from Cette to 
Gibraltar in ballast, passed a vessel which the 
captain took to be a merchant vessel, and 
thought no more about her. At seven o'clock 
next morning the master saw the conning-tower 
of a submarine start out of the haze about a 
mile and a half away on the port bow. Almost 
at the same moment came the flash and report 
of her gun. 

The master ordered full steam and fled. The 
submarine, rapidly overhauling him, fired shot 
after shot, at intervals of two or three minutes. 
One projectile flew so close to the master that 
he was blown backwards with the wind of its 
passing. Fragments of shell hurtled down upon 
the bridge and deck. 

During the attack, the steamship which had 
been passed by the Yser in the night was four 
or five miles distant, beyond the submarine and 
astern of the Yser, holding a parallel course. 
The submarine thought it worth while to fire a 
shot at her. 

148 



144 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

When the submarine was within about half a 
mile the master of the Yser, considering that 
the enemy could fire into the ship when he chose, 
disabling her and killing the crew, decided to 
abandon ship. So he stopped engines and 
ordered the boats to be swung out. No sooner 
had he stopped than the submarine unaccount- 
ably submerged. Without staying to reflect 
upon what was the reason for the enemy's 
manoeuvre, the master instantly seized the 
chance to escape, and started slow ahead. 

At first it seemed as though the enemy had 
really gone, and hope gleamed upon the people 
of the Yser. The chief engineer below, after the 
sudden cessation of the stress of keeping up full 
steam and working the engines under fire, had 
brought his men to it again, and they were again 
doing their utmost. Until now they had endured 
that suspense which is the portion of men below 
during an attack; unable to see what was hap- 
pening on deck, hearing the incessant reports 
of gunfire, and momently expecting a shell to 
burst among them. Now, having brought the 
ship through during a hot twenty minutes, 
having been told that their job was done, and 
having settled to abandon ship, they must begin 
all over again. And at the orders of the chief 
engineer they did it. Here is a silent and homely 
exploit which deserves remembrance, and which 
makes notable the affair of the Yser. 

But presently the master descried the menac- 
ing periscope cleaving the surface about a 
quarter of a mile away on the starboard side. 
The submarine had gained a quarter of a mile 



THE ENGINEERS OF THE "YSER" 145 

in a few minutes. Then the master perceived 
the track of an approaching torpedo. 

It was now a question of seconds. The master 
stopped engines and ordered all hands into the 
boats. The whole of the crew, twenty-five men, 
got away, and the seven officers were in the act 
to follow them into the boats when the torpedo 
struck. The chief officer, descending the life- 
line, was flung into the sea and sank, dead. The 
torpedo blew an immense hole right through the 
ship from side to side. 

The boats pulled away as the ship settled 
down, and five minutes afterwards she was 
gone. It was then about half-past seven. 

In the meantime the strange vessel which, 
during the attack, was steaming four or five 
miles away from the Yser, and gradually closing 
her, had disappeared. When the men in the 
boats had been cruising about for some hours 
she returned, picked them up and brought them 
into port. 

From first to last the enemy submarine made 
no signal and hoisted no colours. 



xvm 

Slipping Between 

The case of the Roddam may be cited as an 
example among thousands of examples of the 
vigilance of the Admiralty. It is no fault of 
the Navy that it is unable to give an absolute 
protection to mariners; they are now obliged 
to fight in their own defence as best they may; 
and during the continuance of the war it is 
impossible to record by what means or in what 
degree the Navy has defended and saved mer- 
chant shipping from mine, submarine and 
cruiser. It must be enough for the present to 
know that in default of the Navy the losses 
inflicted by the enemy on the merchant service 
would be indefinitely multiplied. One might 
even say that in default of the Navy, ere three 
years of war were done, there would have been 
no merchant service. 

The Trade division of the Admiralty has an 
eye like the Mormon eye. It is omnipresent. It 
beholds every officer and man, every ship, boat, 
cargo and gun of the mercantile marine. All 
that can be done to avert catastrophe is done; 
in the event of catastrophe, all is saved that 

146 



SLIPPING BETWEEN 147 

can be saved, and brought home from the ends 
of the earth. 

On September 26th, 1916, the cargo-boat 
Roddam was going home across the north-west 
Mediterranean, in the area lying between the 
Balearic Islands and the Spanish coast. In the 
morning a French torpedo-boat destroyer slid 
into signalling range and told the master of the 
Roddam that a submarine had been sighted some 
hours earlier, in such-and-such a position, steer- 
ing a course which would bring her towards the 
R oddam. The ma ster altered course accordingly . 

At half-past two another French destroyer 
signalled that a submarine had been sighted, 
and gave the master of the Roddam his course. 

The master obeyed instructions, ordered his 
two gunners to stand by their gun, kept a strict 
look-out, and in this state of suspense held on 
for two hours, in fine clear weather, a fresh 
breeze and a tumbling, following sea. 

Suddenly came the report of a distant gun, and 
a shell came over from astern, pitching into the 
water a ship 's length ahead. The master ran the 
red ensign to the main, and ordered the gunners 
to open fire. It was a futile exercise, for the 
submarine, almost invisible six or seven miles 
astern, had the range of the Roddam, whose 
shot fell hopelessly short of the enemy. 

A shell entered the chart-room and passed out 
through the wheel-house; another pierced the 
deck of the bridge; others went through the 
after-deck. 

The master asked the two Eoyal Marine 
gunners what they thought about it. They 



148 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

thought it was perfectly useless to try to hit an 
enemy who was out of reach, and who could 
shell the Roddam at leisure. 

The master hauled down his flag, stopped 
engines, and ordered the boats away. The 
action had lasted about a quarter of an hour. 
Within the next fifteen minutes both boats were 
away. There were eleven people in the port 
boat, under the command of the chief officer, 
and seventeen people in the starboard boat, under 
the command of the master. Both boats sailed 
to windward. There was a nasty sea, the wind 
veering and gusty, and the two boats were soon 
separated by some distance. The chief officer, 
after cruising for half an hour, perceived the 
submarine approaching. Coming alongside the 
master's boat, she stopped, and lay still for 
about half an hour. The dusk was gathering, and 
the chief officer was too far away to see details. 

He perceived the submarine to draw near the 
Roddam and to fire into her fore and aft, until 
she listed over to starboard and began to settle 
by the stern. Then the submarine came towards 
the chief officer, who went about to meet her, but 
she kept on, and so disappeared into the dark. 
By this time both the Roddam and the master's 
boat were invisible. The chief officer handled 
his boat so that she might five through the gale, 
suiting his course to the weather. 

In the meantime, when the submarine was 
approaching the master's boat, flying a small 
Austrian ensign on her periscope, the submarine 
officer ordered the master's boat alongside, and 
standing on the conning-tower clad in oilskins, 



SLIPPING BETWEEN 149 

revolver in hand, shouted, " Where's the cap- 
tain 1 ' ' The master 's boat, on coming alongside 
the submarine in a lop of sea, stove in several 
strakes upon the submarine 's handrail. Five or 
six Austrian seamen, dressed in brown overalls, 
were on the deck of the submarine. 

The Austrian officer ordered the master to 
come on board, and asked the usual question: 
"Why did you fire!" He demanded the ship's 
papers, and the master gave him a wallet, which 
contained some old and valueless account sheets. 
His confidential papers had been thrown over- 
board in a weighted bag. 

The submarine officer said, "I suppose you 
know you are a prisoner of wart" and pointed 
to the hatch. The master, who seems to have 
held his peace during the interrogation, silently 
disappeared through the hatch and was no more 
seen. (Fortunately the two gunners were in the 
other boat, and so escaped capture.) 

The command of the starboard boat then 
devolved upon the second officer. The captain 
of the submarine seems to have left the subse- 
quent conduct of the affair to the lieutenant, who 
was courteous enough. As the starboard boat of 
the Roddam was damaged, he allowed the second 
officer to return to his ship to get another. 

"I give you a good chance to go on board," 
said he, and towed the starboard boat back to 
the Roddam, The lieutenant stipulated that no 
one was to go on the gun platform, told the 
second officer he was to steer north-north-west, 
and stood clear. 

The second officer, who had been slightly 



150 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

wounded during the attack, climbed on board the 
forlorn and broken ship. Hurried and shaken 
as he was, he searched among the wreckage for 
the ship's papers in case they had not been 
destroyed, but it was impossible to find anything 
among the ruins. 

Then he got away the motor-boat and put 
eight persons into her, the other eight remaining 
in the damaged starboard boat, and laid his 
course for the mainland, which was some thirty- 
five miles distant. 

As the two boats receded the darkness astern 
was cloven by the flashes of the guns of the 
submarine as she fired into the deserted ship. 

All three boats were now adrift in a gale, the 
chief officer's boat being separated from the 
other two. For the time being the eye of the 
Admiralty lost sight of them. But not for long. 
About one o'clock in the morning the chief 
officer, struggling to keep the boat alive in a 
heavy sea and with a shifting wind, burned red 
flares to call the other boats. The second officer 
answered with red flares; but in that weather 
the chief officer could not reach the other boats, 
and did not, in fact, see them again. 

At daylight he made sail and steered for the 
mainland. After sailing for three or four hours 
he sighted a steamer, and steered for her, mak- 
ing signals of distress. At about half -past nine 
the boat was picked up by a neutral vessel, 
which landed the chief officer's party at Valen- 
cia. So much for one boat. 

The second officer's party, at daylight, were 
within fifteen or twenty miles of land, which 



SLIPPING BETWEEN 151 

was visible. Their progress towards it in that 
weather was very slow ; and at noon they were 
picked up by a French man-of-war, which landed 
them at Marseilles. 

On the following day the Admiralty knew 
that the chief officer's party had been landed at 
Valencia, that the master was a prisoner, and 
that the second officer's party had been picked 
up by the French man-of-war aforesaid. But 
where the second officer's party had been landed 
the Admiralty, owing to some telegraphic con- 
fusion, did not then know. Immediately a 
number of persons in various parts of the world 
understood that the Admiralty wanted to know 
and intended to find out. Nor was it long before 
the Admiralty had accounted for every man of 
the Boddam, not to mention her boats. And 
eventually there came to the Admiralty informa- 
tion that the captive master was alive and well. 

The master, like many another British master, 
knew that in fighting his ship, as in duty bound, 
with the weapons provided, he had but the 
slightest chance of defeating the enemy, and he 
also knew that if his ship was taken he would 
be made a prisoner of war. A ship too slow tp 
escape, a target too small to hit, and prison in 
front of him; such at that time was the pre- 
dicament of the mercantile marine master. He 
tried to escape, and was overhauled ; he fought, 
and was outmatched ; and so to prison. 

The Boddam slipped between the protection 
of the French patrol and luck. 



XIX 

Heavy Weather 

The submarine prefers to attack in fine 
weather. It is pleasanter for all parties con- 
cerned, and much easier. The reports usually 
record weather fine and clear, light airs, slight 
swell. But the Cabotia was attacked and chased 
in a North Atlantic autumn gale. 

She left the United States on October 9th, 
1916, carrying some 5,000 tons of cargo, consist- 
ing of wood pulp and 300 horses, and steamed 
at once into a gale. It blew hard, with a heavy 
sea, almost without cessation, and after eleven 
days was worse. On the 20th a full gale was 
blowing from the south-west. The Cabotia, 
steaming east, was holding a zig-zag course at 
ten knots, pitching and rolling, the sea continu- 
ally washing over the decks. The master, the 
chief officer, and the second officer were in the 
chart-house, working out the position of the ship 
taken by observation at noon. They made out 
that she was 120 miles from the nearest land, or 
twelve hours' steaming. These were the dan- 
gerous hours. If nothing happened during the 
day, by midnight the ship would be safe. 

152 



HEAVY WEATHER 153 

The third officer was on watch on the bridge, 
where an able seaman was at the wheel. An 
able seaman was looking ont on the forecastle 
head, scanning the broken hills of water rising 
and falling away to the grey horizon. 

Suddenly, across the smother, the look-out 
saw a dark and glistening object emerge. It 
was about three miles away on the starboard 
bow. The officers left the chart-house; the 
master went on the bridge; and all deck hands 
were summoned on deck. The master put the 
ship right about, bringing the submarine astern. 
The submarine fired, and continued to fire at 
intervals of about five minutes, while she 
manoeuvred to get on the Cabotia 1 s quarter. 
But the master of the Cabotia kept a zig-zag 
course, and manoeuvred quicker than the sub- 
marine, so that the chief officer presently said 
he thought the Cabotia could escape. She was 
unarmed. 

The movement of the ship, turning swiftly to 
port and starboard alternately in a beam sea, 
was very violent. The sufferings of the horses 
penned below are not described, but they may 
be imagined. The engineers and firemen, as 
usual, stuck to their work and kept the ship at 
her full speed of ten knots. It is uncertain 
whether or not the ship was hit during a chase 
which thus furiously proceeded for an hour and 
a half. But the officers of the Cabotia clustered 
on the oscillating bridge were staring aft at the 
shape astern. It was now buried in flying 
water, the gunner at his gun plunged up to his 
neck in the sea, now emerging and firing with a 



154 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

sullen flash and a detonation torn by the wind ; 
and the people in the Cabotia perceived that in 
spite of her difficult manoeuvring, the submarine 
had three knots the better in speed, and was 
overhauling them. 

The master ordered the boats to be swung 
out, and dropped his confidential papers over- 
board. No one thought the boats could live in 
the sea then running; but they were the only 
chance. The wireless operator had been con- 
stantly making the distress call, and a little 
before two o 'clock he received an answer. 

But by that time the submarine was close 
under the stern of the Cabotia, and she put a 
shell through the Cabotia's funnel. Then the 
master stopped engines, hoisted the signal that 
he was abandoning ship, and ordered the crew 
into the boats. 

Here was another test of discipline and sea- 
manship, to get the boats away from the rolling 
vessel, in that frightful sea, under the continual 
fire of the submarine. Among the seventy-four 
men of the crew, besides British, were Greeks, 
Italians, Portuguese, Americans, Danes and 
Norwegians ; and all ' ' behaved splendidly. ' ' 

There were four boats, each having a week's 
provisions on board, and all were safely 
launched. The boats were in charge of the mas- 
ter, chief, second and third officers respectively. 
In that sea it was all they could do to keep their 
boats afloat, and they were immediately sepa- 
rated each from the other. 

The second officer, who with his men expected 
every instant to be drowned, kept his boat 



HEAVY WEATHER 155 

before the sea, the men pulling to keep steerage 
way on her, and so waited for orders from the 
master. He saw the submarine go alongside 
the third officer's boat, and speak to the third 
officer. Then the submarine went close to the 
Cabotia and fired twelve shots into her. The 
Cabotia settled slowly down, and about half an 
hour afterwards she was gone. 

About the same time the second officer sighted 
a steamer. He hoisted a shirt on the mast, and 
pulled hard towards her. The steamer stopped, 
but made no reply to the signal of distress ; and 
the second officer, tossing desperately within a 
few hundred yards, saw the submarine go along- 
side the strange vessel. She carried neutral 
colours printed on her side, and a black funnel 
with a deep white band. 

Without taking the slightest notice of the 
boats, the steamer got under way, saluted the 
submarine with a blast on her whistle, and 
departed. No explanation of these circum- 
stances is available. That was what happened. 
The second officer, abandoned to his fate, kept 
the boat before the sea, and looked for the other 
boats, but he could not see them. It was then 
about three o'clock in the afternoon. Four 
terrible hours later heavy rain began to fall, 
and the sea moderated a little. The second 
officer then steered for the land, about 120 miles 
distant, the men pulling steadily all night. 
When the ragged daylight dawned on the 
desolate sea, the second officer set sail, and made 
good way in comparative ease. At nine o'clock 
that morning the second officer sighted a patrol 



156 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

boat right ahead. A few minutes later the 
second officer and his sturdy crew were safe on 
board the patrol boat, and the drenched, cold 
and exhausted men were sitting down to a hot 
breakfast. 

In the meantime the chief officer's boat had 
gone through much the same ordeal. When the 
second officer pulled towards the strange steamer 
the chief officer was astern of him and further 
away from the vessel. The chief officer also 
made signals of distress, hoisting an apron. 
Like the second officer, he saw the steamer stop, 
noted her neutral colours and the white band on 
her funnel, saw the submarine draw alongside 
and converse with her, saw her depart. 

At that time the master's boat and the third 
officer 's boat were within sight of the other two, 
and all remained in company, though widely 
separated, drifting northwards stern to sea 
until dark. 

When daylight came the chief officer's boat 
was alone. The chief officer hoisted sail, and 
laid his course for the land. 

The second officer, on coming on board the 
patrol boat, of course reported the situation to 
her captain, who immediately steamed in search 
of the other three boats. Within twenty minutes 
the chief officer's boat was sighted, a little and 
solitary sail cleaving the wandering waters ; and 
presently he and his party were safe on board 
the patrol. 

All that day, all the night and all the follow- 
ing day the patrol vessel cruised in search of the 
master's and the third officer's boats. They 



HEAVY WEATHER 157 

were not found. The second officer still held to 
a hope that they had been driven far to the 
north and would be rescued or make a landfall. 
But they were never seen again. 

Thirty-two officers and men went down on 
that night of storm; thirty-two out of seventy- 
four. In such a sea a small boat with little 
steerage way might be pooped at any moment; 
that is, being continually followed and overhung 
by huge seas, she might fail to rise to the next 
sea in time, when the following wave would fall 
upon her, sending her to the bottom like a stone. 

Of this hazard the commanding officer of the 
German submarine was perfectly aware, when 
he forced the master of the Cabotia to abandon 
ship, with the alternative of being torpedoed 
and himself and the ship's company drowned. 
It is also evident that the submarine officer pre- 
vented the steamer which came along from 
rescuing the men in the boats. Either that 
steamer was a German disguised as a neutral, or 
she was a neutral. If she was a neutral ship 
(which seems probable) the submarine officer 
must have told her master that if she picked 
up the boats she would herself be destroyed. If 
the ship was a German vessel, the case is no 
better. The thirty-two men were murdered. 

The example of the Cabotia showed that a 
submarine can attack in weather so heavy that 
a small patrol boat could hardly live in it, and 
even if she came through, her speed would be 
considerably decreased. 

Neither of the two officers of the Cabotia 
whose evidence is recorded made any mention 



158 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

of the events of that night, during which their 
boats drifted before the wind and sea of a North 
Atlantic gale in autumn. Yet during all those 
dark hours the men, beaten upon by the driving 
rain, soaked with spray, went on rowing and 
rowing; while the steersman, feeling the boat 
leap and sway under his hand, knew that the 
slightest failure in vigilance was certain death. 



XX 

A Sitting Shot 

The ship was anchored for the night, and the 
chief engineer, having pumped up his boilers, 
closed all connections and made sure that 
everything was correct, as a careful man should, 
went up to the deck-house for a little chat before 
turning in. Here was the master, who, having 
seen that the anchor lights were burning, the 
watch was set and all was snug, also felt dis- 
posed for social relaxation. 

That day, February 1st, 1916, the master and 
the engineer had brought the Franz Fischer, a 
little ex-German collier (now officially described 
as the property of the Lord High Admiral) down 
the east coast, amid various alarms and through 
a thick haze. Finally, the master received a 
warning from a patrol boat that there were 
floating mines ahead. It was then about nine 
o'clock of a windless night, and " black dark," 
and the master had decided to anchor where he 
was, off the south-east coast. 

The two men, at this pause in their toils, 
talked of mines and submarines and enemy 
cruisers and the anxiety of navigating unlighted 

159 



160 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

waters, and how they were safe where they lay, 
for a night at least. But they had forgotten one 
thing. 

While the master and the chief engineer were 
thus peacefully engaged, the boatswain was on 
the bridge, in charge of the watch, with an able 
seaman. 

Presently the boatswain remarked that he 
" heard a noise like an aeroplane.' ' The obser- 
vation interested the able seaman because, as he 
said, he had " never previously heard an aero- 
plane/ ' and he listened to the strange tin-like 
humming, gazing up into the opaque darkness. 
The mate, who was in his cabin adjoining the 
master's room in the deck-house, came upon 
the bridge. The mate's opinion was that the 
noise came, not from an aeroplane, but from a 
Zeppelin. The invisible thing in the air seemed 
to be circling about the ship. 

The two men in the master's cabin, hearing a 
faint, whirring sound, paused in their conversa- 
tion to listen to it. At the same moment there 
came a knocking on the bulkhead, and the mate's 
voice asking the master if he heard aircraft. 

"Yes — what is it?" said the master. The 
mate replied that he did not know, but that, 
whatever it was, it was approaching from the 
south-east. As they hearkened the humming 
died away, and for a minute or two there was 
silence. 

Suddenly the vibrating roar of aerial engines 
burst upon the ship so close above her that "the 
sound was like several express railway trains 
all crossing a bridge together, and at its loudest 



A SITTING SHOT 161 

it would not be possible to hear a man shout." 
So said the able seaman, who was on deck. 
What the boatswain thought will never be 
known, because he did not live to tell. 

Then the clangour stopped once more ; again 
there was a brief and terrifying silence; and 
then a tremendous explosion in the ship, which 
shivered all over, steadied, and began to heel 
over to port. 

The master and the chief engineer, coming 
out from the deck-house into the alleyway, were 
met by a falling column of water and were flung 
backwards into the cabin, while the able seaman 
was dashed against the door of the galley and 
partially stunned. 

The chief engineer, struggling to his feet, ran 
out on the listing deck to summon the men from 
below, and came to the engine-room companion 
just as the second mate, second engineer, stew- 
ard, donkey-man and mess-room boy came 
crowding up, all naked as they had tumbled out 
of their berths. The chief engineer missed a 
fireman, but he had no time to look for him. 
The ship was heeling over rapidly. The chief 
engineer ran to the starboard lifeboat, which 
was swung out, and in which was a seaman. 

At the same time the able seaman, coming to 
his senses, sprang for the boats, which were 
surrounded by the dim figures of naked men, and 
which, as the ship leaned over, were jammed in 
the falls. As usual, no one had a knife. A man 
ran to the galley to fetch a knife. The ship 
turned over, everyone on board was drawn down 
with her, and, said the chief engineer, she 



162 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

"appeared as if she sank just like a stone." 

The chief engineer, coming to the surface, 
scanned the dark waters, caught sight of a 
floating object, swam to it, and held on to the 
box containing lifebelts, which had been washed 
from the bridge of the ship. All about the 
chief engineer cries for help went up from the 
men in the water. Several swimmers gained the 
box and clung to it. In the icy water, the dark- 
ness and confusion, the chief engineer thought 
that about eight men were clustered about the 
box, and he remembers recognising the second 
mate and the donkey-man. The men tried to 
climb upon the box and capsized it. With much 
desperate swearing, it was righted again, but 
some of the men, paralysed by the cold of the 
water, had gone down. Those who remained 
continued struggling to climb upon the box, and 
to capsize it, and more men dropped off and 
were drowned. 

The chief engineer, considering that he would 
be safer by himself, let go the box and struck 
out. He found a lifebelt floating, put it on, and 
swam and floated until he lost consciousness. 
The next thing he knew he was lying in the 
bottom of a boat, rescued. 

Still clinging to the box were the able seaman, 
who was on watch when the ship was attacked, 
and the donkey-man. The able seaman heard the 
clank and splash of oars and saw aboat approach- 
ing, when the donkey-man relaxed his grasp and 
sank, and the able seaman could not save him. 

The boat came from the Belgian steamship 
Paul, which had been anchored within half a 



A SITTING SHOT 163 

mile. It would have arrived sooner but for 
accidents. According to the captain's statement 
(published in The Times), after the explosion 
he heard cries of distress, and got away his 
lifeboat, manned by the mate, the boatswain, an 
able seaman and a fireman. In the thick dark- 
ness it was at first impossible to ascertain 
whence they came. Presently the shouts of three 
men were distinguishable, and the boat went 
away, and picked up first the able seaman, who 
was hanging on to the box, then the steward, 
who was floating in a lifebelt, then the chief 
engineer, who was to all appearance dead. 

Then the boat was carried out to sea on the 
strong ebb. The master of the Paul waited and 
listened for her, and presently descried a signal, 
which he rightly interpreted to mean that she 
could not make head against the tide. The 
master must therefore go to the boat's assist- 
ance. Steam was raised, and the windlass 
manned to heave on the anchor. Then the 
windlass broke. Upon the details of that 
troubled time the master is silent; but it took 
three hours' hard work to reach the boat, with 
the ship's anchor dragging astern. 

By that time one of the rescued men was so 
far gone from this life that when he was lifted 
aboard the Paul restoratives were applied for 
an hour before he revived. 

Thirteen men out of sixteen were lost. 

But their murderers, the crew of ZeppelinL19, 
also tasted salt water. The next morning a 
trawler beheld the ghastly tattered ruin of an 
airship sagging in the winter sea. 



XXI 

Shipmates with a Pirate 

Morning of November 1st, 1916. A steam- 
ship rolling in the long swell of the North 
Atlantic, pursued by shots fired from astern by 
an invisible enemy. The Seatonia slipped this 
way and that like a hunted animal, the master 
scanning the hills of water rising and falling, 
until he saw the submarine. She was then some 
seven miles distant. Smoke, shot with flame, 
continually burst from her guns, and shells sang 
about the Seatonia, falling nearer and nearer. 
So, for nearly three hours. Then the submarine, 
running close on the steamer's beam, signalled 
1 ' Abandon ship. ' ' 

The master stopped engines and ordered the 
two boats away. Fourteen people went in the 
port lifeboat, seventeen in the starboard life- 
boat, including the master, who was the last to 
leave the ship. 

The port lifeboat was in charge of the chief 
officer and was first away. The submarine then 
hoisted the German ensign, and two small flags ; 
and as the master's boat was launched, the 
submarine officer ordered her to come alongside* 

164 



SHIPMATES WITH A PIRATE 165 

The chief officer, standing off, saw the master 
and the rest of the people in the starboard life- 
boat taken on board the submarine, and the 
lifeboat cast adrift. Whereupon the chief 
officer got under way, steered east by north, 
and (to make an end of his adventures) was 
picked up two or three hours afterwards by a 
neutral steamer, and subsequently landed in a 
neutral port, whence, with the thirteen men 
under his command, he came home in due time. 

The master and the sixteen others of the crew 
of the starboard lifeboat were sent below in 
the submarine, so that the master did not see 
his ship sink; but he heard the "cough" of 
the discharge of the two torpedoes which sank 
her. The chief engineer of the Seatonia, who 
was also below, says he saw the torpedoes fired. 
The submarine then submerged, and the English 
and the other nationalities of the Seatonia's 
people were alone with the Germans in that 
narrow cylinder, intricate and glittering with 
pipes, wheels, valves and every kind of 
mechanism. 

The commanding officer of the submarine was 
of sallow complexion and sharp of feature, 
looking about forty years of age. The first 
lieutenant was about thirty, a fair man of 
middle size. The second lieutenant, a dark, 
clean-shaven young officer, had (he said) lived 
for some years in Nova Scotia, and spoke good 
English. 

The crew numbered forty-six. They wore 
thick felt-lined brown coats and trousers, made 
of rubber or waterproofed leather. The internal 



166 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

fittings of the vessel were stamped V 49. Ex- 
ternally she carried no number, and was painted 
the usual grey. 

The master says no word, bad or good, of his 
experience on board the enemy submarine. It 
is certain that he must have suffered a good deal 
of discomfort, for there is no accommodation 
for passengers in a submarine, and little enough 
for the crew. The commanding officer and first 
lieutenant may have had fitted bed-places; the 
other officer and the men slept on the floor. On 
that night of November 1st the people of the 
Seatonia must have been packed like herrings, 
and the air must have become very dense. It 
seems that they were hospitably treated. The 
commanding officer asked many questions of the 
master, who, if he were like other masters, did 
not illuminatingly respond. The lieutenant who 
had dwelt in Nova Scotia appears to have been 
socially disposed. 

At eight o 'clock the next morning, November 
2nd, the submarine captain invited the master 
to come up on deck. There, in the keen air and 
sudden daylight, the master beheld three British 
steam trawlers tossing on a heavy run of sea. 
These were the Caswell, Kyoto, and Ear fat 
Castle. But the master had not been asked on 
deck to admire the view. The submarine officer 
had already made his arrangements, and the 
master was part of them. The men of the 
Caswell were ordered to bring their boat along- 
side, and the submarine officer ordered the 
master to visit each of the three trawlers, to 
estimate the amount of coal in her bunkers, and 



SHIPMATES WITH A PIRATE 167 

to open the sea-cocks, in the two which had least 
coal, and so to sink them. Such, at least, was 
what the master understood he was to do. 

The master had no choice but to obey. So 
he went away in the Caswell's boat. The crews 
of the other two trawlers were getting away in 
their boats. No sooner was the crew of the 
Kyoto clear of her than the master was startled 
by the report of a gun, and saw a shell strike 
the Kyoto. The submarine fired into her till she 
sank. Apparently the German officer decided 
to hasten the good work. 

Then the master perceived another steam 
trawler coming up. She looked like an Icelandic 
boat, was named Bragi, and was flying Danish 
colours. He afterwards discovered, that the 
Dane had been captured by the submarine four 
days previously, and was then under the com- 
mand of a German lieutenant, with an armed 
guard of three men. The Bragi was acting as 
consort to the submarine. She lay-to, and the 
submarine officer set the crews of all three 
trawlers and some of the Seatonia's crew to 
shifting coal from the two remaining British 
trawlers, Caswell and Harfat Castle, to the 
Bragi. 

There was a considerable sea running, and 
the forced working party must hoist the coal 
from the bunkers, lower it into the boats, pull 
the boats across to the Bragi, hoist the coal on 
board her, return and do it all over again — a 
hard and heavy job. The Germans looked on. 

The master makes no remark upon this 
procedure. The work went on for about six 



168 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

hours, and was finished at half -past four in the 
afternoon. Then the black, wet and weary 
men were ordered on board the Bragi, which 
thus received the crew of the Seatonia and the 
crews of the three trawlers. The master of the 
Seatonia was kept on board the submarine. 

The submarine officer ordered the master of 
the Bragi to come on board, gave him his instruc- 
tions, and sent him back to his ship. The 
trawlers ' boats were hoisted on board the Bragi, 
and the two remaining trawlers, now gutted of 
coal and supplies, were sunk by gunfire. The 
Bragi got under way and departed. 

The master of the Seatonia was left alone 
with his German captors in the submarine. 

The master was allowed on deck when there 
was no ship in sight, and he admired the sea- 
worthy qualities of the submarine. She was 
much on the surface, both by day and night; 
during the whole time the master was on board 
it was blowing hard with a heavy sea; and he 
considered that the submarine " worked on the 
surface in a most weatherly way." 

When a vessel which might have been an 
enemy was sighted the submarine dived, some- 
what, it must be supposed, to the master's relief; 
for if she was put down he would infallibly go 
down with her, and it would have been a pity to 
be drowned by one's own people. 

Twice during the night of November 3rd, 
the master's third night on board, firing went 
on over his head on deck. Two ships were 
attacked, and so far as the master could dis- 
cover, unsuccessfully. In preparing to attack, 



SHIPMATES WITH A PIRATE 169 

the submarine always submerged so soon as the 
ship was sighted, then rose again to fire at her. 

The next night, the 4th, another vessel was 
attacked. Nothing more seems to have hap- 
pened till the night of the 7th, when the master 
understood that the submarine was firing on the 
U.S.A. steamship Columbian. 

Next day, November 8th, the submarine 
forced a Norwegian steamer, the Balto, to stop 
and wait for orders. Then the submarine once 
more attacked the Columbian, compelled the 
crew to abandon her, sent them on board the 
Norwegian, and then torpedoed the Columbian. 

That was an interesting day for the British 
master. In her, but not of her, he watched a 
first-class pirate at work. The next day, the 
9th, was also variously destructive. The sub- 
marine stopped a Swedish steamer, the Varmg, 
and to her transferred the crews of the sunk 
Columbian and of the Balto. Thus it became 
feasible to sink the Balto; and accordingly 
bombs were exploded on board her, and she 
sank about noon. 

The master of the Seatonia was now released 
from captivity and sent on board the Varing, 
where there were already 134 people, in addition 
to the crew. The master made the 135th. The 
same afternoon 25 more persons joined the 
party, making 160 captives in all. For the sub- 
marine had forced the crew of the Norwegian 
Fordelen to abandon her, sent them to the 
Varing, and sunk the Fordelen. 

The submarine officer sent a prize crew on 
board the Varing, and at midnight the German 



170 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

officer in command of the Varing suddenly 
sighted a British vessel of war, and at once 
cleared the upper deck of all passengers. 

During the nine days of the master 's captivity 
the submarine sank the Seatonia, the three 
trawlers Caswell, Kyoto and Harfat Castle, the 
neutral vessels Columbian, Balto and Fordelen, 
seven in all, and captured the Varing. She 
had already captured the Danish trawler Bragi, 
which was acting as consort. The disposition of 
the captured crews was ingenious. The Seato- 
nia's people went to the submarine herself, 
thence to the Danish consort. The Columbian 
was not put down until provision was made for 
.her crew in the Balto. The crews of Columbian 
and Balto were both transferred from the Balto 
to the Varing, and then the Balto was sunk. The 
crew of the Fordelen also went to the Varing, 
and then the Fordelen was sunk. 

The commanding officer of the submarine thus 
preserved the lives of the people whose ships 
he destroyed, making no distinction whatever 
between belligerent and neutral ships. The 
master of the Seatonia was treated not as a 
prisoner of war, but as a civilian prisoner. As 
he had not fired upon the submarine — having 
indeed no gun — he did in fact retain his civilian 
rights, which were respected. 

The next morning, November 10th, the mas- 
ter, with one of the captive crews, was landed 
in a neutral port. 

In the meantime the Bragi, according to her 
instructions, arrived on November 5th off a 
neutral port, which was her rendezvous. The 



SHIPMATES WITH A PIRATE 171 

next day the submarine fetched up with the 
Varing in company. The master of the Bragi 
was again summoned on board the submarine, 
where he received his dismissal from the 
German service. He afterwards landed his 
passengers in a neutral port, and so departed on 
his own affairs, carrying in his mind a powerful 
objection, mentioned by the submarine officer, 
against carrying fish for England. 

The use made by the Germans of neutral ships 
and neutral ports would seem to add a new 
meaning to the accepted notion of neutrality. 



XXII 

"A Cheerful Note" 

"Thus sang they in the English boat 
A holy and a cheerful note." — A. Marvell. 

The master of the City of Birmingham, left 
alone on board his ship, which was sinking 
under him, collected his confidential books and 
papers, stowed them in a weighted bag, went 
on the bridge and hove them overboard. 

Pulling away from the ship over the smooth 
swell were seven boats laden with passengers. 
Across the water floated the pleasant sound of 
women's voices, singing. . . . 

The sound was a gracious, unconscious testi- 
mony to the master's forethought, skill and 
hardihood. A little more than ten minutes ago 
all the people in the boats had been snug in the 
ship, which was steaming peacefully at thirteen 
knots : all men on duty at their stations, every- 
thing correct, no sign of an enemy. There were 
a crew of 145, of whom 29 were British and 116 
were Lascars, and passengers numbering 170, of 
whom about 90 were women and children. There 
was no warning ere the torpedo struck the 
vessel. 

172 



"A CHEERFUL NOTE" 173 

The master on the bridge perceived that the 
after half of the ship was under water. He had 
stayed by his ship to the last, and now it was 
time for him to go. He swung himself from the 
bridge and ran to the forecastle head, and as he 
reached it the ship went down, taking the master 
with her. He came to the surface, struck out, 
swam to a couple of floating planks and clung to 
them. It was November 27th, 1916, and the 
water of the Mediterranean was very cold. 

To the master, adrift on the last remnant of 
his fine ship, still came the sound of women's 
voices, singing; but they seemed very far off. 
Rising and falling on the long slopes of the 
swell, the master could see the boats no longer. 
It occurred to him that they could not see him, 
either. Would they conclude he was drowned 
with his ship? Would each boat think the 
other had him on board? Would he be left to 
perish, alone among the people in the ship, the 
people whom he had saved? 

Swinging drenched on his wreckage, the 
master saw again the trim clean ship, the look- 
outs at their stations, the gunners standing by 
their gun, and felt again the tremendous blow of 
the torpedo, striking fifteen feet under water, 
and the trembling of the wounded vessel. Then 
began the test of his drill and organisation. 
Every officer and man went to his boat station ; 
all passengers, lifebelts slung upon them, went 
as steadily to their boats as the crew. The 
engineer reversed engines and stopped the way 
of the ship, though the steam was pouring out 
of the saloon windows; the wireless operator 



174 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

sent out calls and received a reply; the boats 
were swung out and safely launched. And all 
inside ten minutes. 

No master could have achieved more. And 
there he was adrift. Where were the boats? 
Minute by minute passed and no boat came. 
1 ' He saved others . . . ' ' But still the sound of 
women's voices, singing, hung in the air. So 
soon as they were in the boats, they struck up 
that brave chant, to show that all was well and 
that nothing dismayed them. 

The master, after the manner of British sea- 
men, continued to hang on, let come what would 
come. Half an hour may be as half a year to 
a drowning man. And the remorseless inter- 
minable minutes lagged one after another to 
nearly thirty ere the master caught the beat of 
pars, and beheld the prow of a boat cleaving the 
crest of the swell above him. 

Once on board the boat the master instantly 
took command again. He signalled to the other 
boats to come together, and ordered them to pull 
eastwards, where a plume of smoke blurred the 
horizon. 

The steamer was presently observed to be 
approaching, and by four o'clock the whole of 
the shipwrecked people were on board the hos- 
pital ship Letitia. The City of Birmingham had 
been torpedoed at 11.15; every soul on board 
except the master was clear of her ten minutes 
later; at 11.45 she sank, and by four o'clock all 
were rescued. 

So soon as the people were on board the 
Letitia, the master called the roll of the passen- 



"A CHEERFUL NOTE" { 175 

gers and mustered the crew. He found that 
four lives in all had been lost between the time 
of the explosion and the pulling away of the 
boats. The ship 's doctor, who was an old man ; 
the barman, who seems to have been of unstable 
temperament, and who fell into the water; and 
two Lascars : these were drowned. 

Neither the submarine nor the torpedo was 
seen. 

The master in his report stated that "the 
women especially showed a good example by 
the way in which they took their places in the 
boats, as calmly as if they were going down to 
their meals, and when in the boats they began 
singing. 

So might Andromeda have lifted her golden 
voice in praise to the immortal gods, what time 
the hero slew the sea-beast that would have 
devoured her. 



XXHI 

Vignette 

Theee hundred miles from land, in the 
Mediterranean, a merchant service officer 
crouched on a raft of wreckage, staring at a 
German submarine, which lay within a hundred 
yards of him. An English ship's boat, crammed 
with men, at some distance from him, was 
pulling towards him. The smooth sea was 
strewn with broken pieces of the ship, to some 
of which men were clinging; and a second boat 
was pulling to and fro, picking the men from 
the water. It was about half -past five in the 
afternoon of November 4th, 1916. 

The chief officer, contemplating the enemy 
with a curious eye, beheld the long, yellow hull 
awash, the circular conning-tower rising amid- 
ships, painted a light straw colour, bearing a 
black number, indecipherable, and surmounted 
by a canvas screen, enclosing the rail. Five or 
six men, clad in brown, except one who wore a 
white sweater, lined the rail of the conning- 
tower, gazing at the destruction they had 
wrought. Forward, on the deck, beside the gun, 
two German officers were leisurely pointing 

176 



VIGNETTE 177 

cameras upon the shipwrecked men. When they 
had taken such photographs as they desired, 
they departed. The submarine got under way 
and steered to a position where she lay in the 
track of steamers shortly due to pass. 

The chief officer and the rest of the men were 
all taken into the two boats. By that time 
darkness was gathering. The chief officer, 
knowing that two steamers were coming up 
astern, burned red flares to warn them of their 
danger. In so doing he risked the vengeance of 
the submarine, which must have seen the flares, 
and which could have overhauled the boats in a 
few minutes, and then sent them to the bottom. 

The two boats, overladen with the soaked and 
shivering crew, pulled and drifted in the dark 
for some nine hours. Early the next morning 
they were rescued by the hospital ship Valdavia. 

It was at 5.25 upon the previous afternoon 
that their ship, the Himtsvale, had been struck 
by a torpedo fired from an unseen submarine. 
Her stern was blown clean off, and she sank in 
two minutes. The master sounded the whistle, 
and the wireless operator had just time and no 
more to send out one call of distress ere his 
dynamo collapsed. The master and six men lost 
their lives, seven killed out of forty-nine. 

Immediately after the explosion the submarine 
rose to the surface and steered towards the scene 
of wreckage, while the German officers prepared 
their photographic apparatus. Doubtless the 
prints were designed for publication in Ger- 
many, to illustrate the freedom of the seas. 



xxrv 

"Leave Her" 
"Leave her, Johnny, leave her." — Chcmty. 

Early in the morning of June 29th, 1916, the 
little ketch Lady of the Lake sailed from an 
Irish port for a Welsh port, her deck piled with 
pitwood. She sailed on a light wind all that day 
and the following night. She was an old boat, 
built at Bideford in 1862, and her master, who 
was her owner, was older still, numbering more 
than seventy sea winters. Sailing with him 
were a mate and a boy. By half -past seven on 
the morning of June 30th the Lady of the Lake, 
a leisurely matron, had strolled about twenty- 
five miles from the Irish coast. There sounded 
the report of a gun, a shot struck her, and away 
on the beam rose a submarine. The submarine 
fired again and again on the ketch. The master 
decided to leave her, in order, as he said, "to 
avoid splinters." He went about on the star- 
board tack so that the dinghy could be lowered, 
and the three men scrambled into her and pulled 
away, while the submarine continued to fire at 
the forlorn Lady of the Lake. 

Then the submarine ran up alongside the 

178 



"LEAVE HER" 179 

dinghy and the German officer, shouting and 
cnrsing, ordered the old seaman, the mate and 
the boy, on board the submarine. The sub- 
marine, still occasionally firing, drew toward 
the ketch, and forced her crew to take in their 
dinghy an officer and three men. The men car- 
ried bombs. The Germans went on board the 
Lady of the Lake, took everything they fancied 
out of her, passed the gear into the boat, placed 
the bombs below, and lit the fuses. The Ger- 
mans were then pulled back to the submarine by 
the master, the mate and the boy. The poor 
plunder was placed on board the submarine, and 
the master, the mate and the boy were cast 
adrift in their boat without food or water. 
The submarine went away. 

The master saw his beloved little vessel go 
up into the air with a horrible explosion, and 
her fragments litter the sea. 

He hoisted an oilskin on an oar as a signal 
of distress, but there was no vessel in sight. 
So the master, the mate and the boy took to 
their oars and pulled for eight hours. They 
had made ten miles out of five-and-twenty to- 
wards the land when they were picked up by a 
patrol boat. 

The Germans had destroyed or stolen all the 
old man possessed in the world, except his 
dinghy and the clothes he wore. 



XXV 

Fuel of Fire 

On the night of December 7th, 1916, in a 
broad moonlight, a big oilship, the Conch, was 
steaming np Channel. She was bringing 7,000 
tons of benzine from a far Eastern port. 

Eight miles away, nearer the coast, a patrol 
boat was cruising. Her captain was startled by 
a bright flame towering upon the night, and 
writhing momently higher amid a vast rolling 
canopy of smoke, blotting out the stars. The 
captain of the patrol boat steered for the fire 
at full speed. At eight knots it was an hour or 
more ere the captain came in full sight of a 
large ship, wrapped in a roaring flame, spouting 
burning oil from a rent in her port side, and 
steaming faster than the patrol boat. From 
the forecastle aft she was all one flame of fire ; 
wildly steering herself, she was yawing now to 
this side, now to the other; and as she sped, 
her wavering track blazed and smoked upon 
the heaving water. 

The heat smote upon the faces of the men in 
the patrol boat as they stared upon the burning 
ship. The captain steered nearer to her, and at 

180 



FUEL OF FIRE 181 

the same moment she turned suddenly towards 
him, her whole bulk of fire bearing down upon 
the patrol boat. The captain put his helm hard 
over and turned away; and still she came on, 
dreadfully lighting the men's scared faces, re- 
vealing every detail of rope and block and 
guardrail ;, and then the patrol boat just cleared 
her. 

The captain stood off to a safe distance and 
steamed parallel to the course of the burning 
ship, scanning her for any sign of a living 
creature, but he could see none, nor did it seem 
possible that so much as a rat could be left alive 
in that furnace. 

After cruising thus for about an hour, and 
perceiving the approach of two trawlers, also 
on patrol duty, the first patrol boat went about 
her business, her captain having made up his 
mind that there were no men left alive in the 
burning ship. 

But there were. 

When the watch was changed on board the 
Conch at eight o 'clock on the evening before, the 
master and the third officer went on the bridge. 
During that watch there were two quartermas- 
ters at the wheel; a wireless operator and a gun- 
ner were posted at the gun, aft, and there was a 
look-out man stationed on the forecastle head. 
Below, the fourth engineer was on watch, and 
the chief engineer was in charge. Two China- 
boys were stoking. The rest of the officers 
were either in their cabins or on deck, and the 
remainder of the crew were in the forecastle, 
where they had their quarters. 



182 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

About half -past ten the chief engineer was in 
his cabin, whence he had been going to the 
engine-room from time to time, when he heard 
the dull report of an explosion, and simultane- 
ously felt a heavy shock. He ran to the engine- 
room. Nothing had happened there ; the revolu- 
tions still marked ten knots, and the needle of 
the telegraph dial still pointed to full speed. 

The fourth engineer ran to call the second and 
third engineers. Swiftly as he went, the fire 
caught him as he dashed into the alleyway, and 
he must burst his way through flame and smoke. 
He was shockingly burned about the hands and 
arms, but he roused the two other engineers, 
and all three hurried down to the engine-room, 
the whole after part of the ship blazing behind 
them. None of the other officers was ever seen 
again. 

In the engine-room, imprisoned by fire, were 
the eight people of the engine-room staff; the 
chief engineer, the second, third and fourth 
engineers and four Chinamen; eight of the 
fifty-six persons in the ship, of whom twelve 
were British and the rest Chinese. 

From time to time one of the engineers tried 
to force his way on deck, and at each attempt 
he was beaten back by the flames. Thus they 
tried for an hour; and all the while the tele- 
graph pointed to full speed and the ship was 
steaming at ten knots. 

It was about midnight when the second en- 
gineer succeeded in reaching the deck. He 
sounded the whistle. The others joined him. 
The bridge was a burning ruin ; flame and smoke 



FUEL OF FIRE 183 

streamed up from the forward tanks; burning 
oil poured from the hull on the port side, where 
mine or torpedo had torn a great hole; of the 
four lifeboats no sign was left except the black- 
ened and twisted davits. To the eight men it ap- 
peared that they must either be burned alive or 
go over the side and end the business that way. 

Then they remarked the dinghy secured on 
chocks on the well deck. Amid the heat and 
flame, they hoisted her out and lowered her into 
the sea, where she was immediately filled with 
water. All the time the ship was steaming ahead 
and yawing. The engineers tried to get back to 
the engine-room to stop the engines and so stop 
the ship ; for with way on the ship the dinghy 
was towing astern, and it was most difficult to 
embark in her. But the fire now barred the 
engineers from the engine-room. 

What followed is a little obscure. But it is 
clear that the four Chinamen reached the boat 
by sliding down the falls, and that the fourth 
engineer, attempting to follow them, could not 
travel along the ropes with his wounded hands, 
so hung midway, unable to go forward or back, 
and then dropped into the sea, whence he never 
rose again. The fourth engineer had come by 
his hurt when he went to call the other two 
engineer officers. So he lost his life. 

The chief engineer did not see what happened 
to the fourth engineer. The Chinamen in the 
boat told him of it. Somehow the chief engi- 
neer got into the boat, and before the second 
and third engineers could board her she came 
adrift from the ship. 



184 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

The chief engineer and the fonr Chinamen 
were in the water-logged boat, and the second 
and third engineers were left on board the burn- 
ing ship. 

The people in the dinghy were not seen by 
the patrol boat, which was keeping pace with 
the Conch some distance away from her. The 
dinghy, obscured by smoke and flame, dropped 
swiftly astern. The chief engineer and the 
Chinamen kept her afloat by incessant baling; 
and after about an hour they sighted a steamer, 
rowed desperately, hailed her, and were pres- 
ently taken on board. 

The steamer pursued the burning ship with 
the intention of taking off the second and third 
engineers, but she could not approach near 
enough. By that time the flames had subsided 
upon the after part of the Conch, but she was 
still blazing from the bridge forward. 

What happened to the second and third en- 
gineers left on board the Conch, their last hope 
drifting away astern? At some time between 
about half -past one in the night of December 
7th-8th, when the dinghy went adrift, and three 
o'clock, one of the trawlers, which had been 
observed by the first patrol boat to be ap- 
proaching, manoeuvred under the stern of the 
Conch, which was still steaming ahead, and the 
commanding officer of the trawler told the two 
engineers to jump into the water, whence he 
hauled them on board. 

Thus, with the sad exception of the fourth 
engineer, the engineering staff was saved. So 



FUEL OF FIRE 185 

far as they knew, when they quitted the burning 
ship there were no men left on board. 

But there were. 

At a quarter to four on that Friday morning, 
December 8th, the lieutenant in command of 
one of his Majesty's torpedo-boat destroyers, 
sighted what he described as "a very large con- 
flagration. ' ' Upon approaching the fire he per- 
ceived a great vessel burning fiercely from fore- 
castle to stern, steaming at about eight knots, 
and yawing through some seven points; and 
huddled upon the fore-peak, like the eyes of a 
tortured creature, a crowd of Chinamen. 

The lieutenant considered that to run his de- 
stroyer alongside a burning ship under way and 
out of control was impracticable. Let us now 
regard the seamanship of the Eoyal Navy. 

The lieutenant lowered all his boats and ran 
past the stern of the Conch, throwing overboard 
life-saving rafts, lifebelts and lifebuoys, and 
shouting to the men to jump into the water. 
He turned, ran past the stern again, turned, 
and repeated his action. The Chinamen leaped 
into the water and were picked up, all except 
nine. 

Nine paralysed Chinamen remained invisibly 
fettered to the ship, where during some five 
hours they had watched the fire steadily eating 
its way towards them. It is probable that they 
had taken opium. The flames, which had slack- 
ened on the after part of the ship, were now 
again blazing, the fire having ignited the bunk- 
ers, and the Chinamen had but a few minutes 
between them and death. 



186 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

"I therefore decided," says the young naval 
officer who performed the deed, "that it was 

necessary to place alongside the ship, and 

take off the remainder of the crew. ' ' 

Then followed a feat of consummate sea- 
manship and indomitable courage. 

A more hazardous evolution could hardly be 
devised. As the burning ship was unmanage- 
able and swerving suddenly from side to side, a 
collision was almost inevitable, while to go 
alongside a pyramid of burning oil was to risk 
catching fire and exploding ammunition. 

The lieutenant, steaming eight knots, keeping 
pace with the Conch, ran right alongside her 
windward bow, grappled the riven, red-hot hull, 
now burned almost down to the water-line. For 
a desperate ten minutes the destroyer was 
locked to the burning, overhanging mass, in the 
reek and the fierce heat and the dropping flakes 
of fire, while the nine wretched Chinamen, 
roused from the Chinese lethargy, lowered 
themselves one by one from the peak of the tall 
vessel to the deck of the destroyer. 

Then the lieutenant cast off his destroyer, 
"which sustained slight superficial damage to 
guardrails and upper deck fittings. ' ' He makes 
no other remark of any kind. He was none too 

soon, for "ten minutes after cleared the 

steamer, the latter was burnt to the water-line 
and disappeared ... at 7.23 a.m." 

In the meantime, ere the destroyer arrived, 
the steamer which had rescued the chief engi- 
neer and the four Chinamen had picked out of 
the water five more Chinamen, while, as already 



FUEL OF FIRE 187 

narrated, the patrol trawler had taken on board 
the secdnd and third engineers. In addition, the 
other patrol trawler had picked up two China- 
men. Three British out of twelve, and twenty- 
five Chinamen out of forty-four were saved; 
thus, out of the whole crew of the Conch, twen- 
ty-eight were saved and twenty-eight were lost. 
The lieutenant in command of the destroyer 
rescued fourteen Chinamen, nine of them at the 
imminent hazard of his ship and all on board, 
by an act of skill and daring which ranks among 
the finest exploits of the Royal Navy. 



XXVI 

The Pilot's Story 

"It is notorious that facts are compatible with opposite 
emotional comments, since the same fact will inspire entirely 
different feelings in different persons, and at different times 
in the same person; and there is no rationally deducible 
connection between any outer fact and the sentiments it 
may happen to provoke." — William James, Varieties of 
Religious Experience. 

The long hoot of a steamer's syren sounded 
from the river, outside the red-blinded windows 
of the bar parlour. There were present the 
Widow Chailey, who was the landlady of The 
Three Ships inn, the girl Bella, who was the 
wife of a soldier and who served the liquor, 
and a hulking mass of a man, huddled in an el- 
bow chair under the gaslight, his hard hat tilted 
over his eyes, his hands clasped on the top of 
his stick. 

"A steamer calling for a boat to take off the 
pilot," said Bella as the syren hooted again. 

" Thank Heaven another one's come in safe, 
then," said the Widow Chailey piously. 

"What do they want to come to this town at 
all for, is what I ask?" said the obese man in 
the chair, without opening his eyes. "They 

188 



THE PILOT'S STORY 189 

only sleep here. They got no house and pay no 
rates. They don't do the town any good." 

' i What a thing to say, Mr. Bagwell, ' ' retorted 
the widow, placidly scanning the evening paper. 
' l 'Ow would we live if it wasn 't for the pilots ? ' ' 

"I'll have another whisky,' ' said Mr. Bag- 
well, after a pause of reflection. 

"I think you've had enough," said Bella. 
But she brought it. Then she sat down at the 
table with a sigh and began to knit. 

Silence ; a silence pervaded with the sense of 
moving life on the dark river without. Pres- 
ently a bell jangled in the entrance hall and 
Bella, with another sigh, left the parlour. 

Then there entered a tanned, sharp-featured, 
bright-eyed man, and dropped a heavy bag un- 
der the table. 

"Good evening, ma'am. I ain't been here 
before, but you'll take me in, I know. I been 
putting up at your opposite number's for years 
— and then they quarrelled with me. You and 
J won 't quarrel, shall us f For I ain 't a quarrel- 
ling man by nature, ' ' said the pilot, settling him- 
self on the bench against the wall. ' ' Now, then. 
One all round, my dear. Whisky's mine." 

The somnolent Mr. Bagwell received his liba- 
tion in silence. The Widow Chailey took a glass 
of port, and Bella sipped a dark liquid which she 
said was a tonic. Herein she was wise, for to 
have accepted all the liquor offered to her was 
impossible. 

' ' Cheero, ' ' said the pilot. ' ' Another. I need 
it. Another for you, old sport. It'll liven you 
up, perhaps." Mr. Bagwell received his glass, 



190 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

drank its contents, and shut his eyes again. 
"Another," said the pilot. "Now we're all 
comfortable. Aren 't us ! ' ' 

"Had a good passage, I hope," said the widow. 

"Mustn't grumble in war-times," said the 
pilot. He raised his eyebrows and pointed in- 
terrogatively to the moveless Bagwell. 

"He's all right," responded the widow tran- 
quilly. "Collector of rates. Most respectable 
— when he hasn't had a drop too much." 

The pilot drank off his potion at a breath. 
"Another," he said. "And the same for our 
leading citizen here. ' ' His white teeth gleamed, 
and his eyes, under sharply narrowing lids, 
shone like points of glass, as Bella sat down 
beside him. 

"What happened, then?" said Bella per- 
suasively. ' ' Tell us. ' ' 

The pilot slipped his arm round the girl's 
waist.- 

"I'll tell you, my dear," he said. "Thirty- 
six hours I been on the bridge before I came off 
just now. It's a neutral ship I brought in, so 
there's no harm in telling. I boarded her up 
north. The captain says, 'I dam glad to see 
you,' he says. 'Now I sleep.' He hadn't had 
his clothes off for six days and nights, and no 
sleep, only cat-naps. His eyes was bloodshot 
and he was all bowed together like a old man. 
'I dessay you'll wake in Heaven with the rest 
of us,' said I, 'and why shouldn't jouV 'I 
got wife and children in Stavanger,' he says, 
and cripples down to his cabin. I had the 
Admiralty instructions, of course^ but there 



THE PILOT'S STORY 191 

wasn't much consolation in them. But no man 
dies before his time. Another, my dear, and one 
more all round. ' ' 

Mr. Bagwell, aroused by the arrival of an- 
other drink, appeared to listen. 

"Not but what," pursued the pilot medita- 
tively, "the further question arises, When is 
his time? However, these things don't trouble 
us much at sea. A fine clear evening it was when 
we left port, and the bells was ringing in the 
town, and all the people was walking on the pier. 
One of the crew, an Englishman, sits on the 
fo'c'sle playing a tune on a penny whistle he 
had, and very well he done it. All of a sudden, 
up comes the old man from below, his hair all on 
end. 'What,' he shouts, stamping in his slip- 
pers, 'you haf no more feeling for the ship that 
you make music in this danger ! ' The English- 
man laughed at him. 'I was only tryin' to get 
a little serciety feelin' into the ship,' says he. 
'A little cordiality, like.' I told the old man 
submarines didn't come for whistlin', and per- 
suaded him back to bed. 

"Now I tell you," continued the pilot — "an- 
pther all round, and thank you, my dear — when- 
ever I take charge of a ship, I know I'm in for 
a gamble with God Almighty. Before the war, 
barring accidents what no one can foresee, I 
knew for a certainty I could take the ship in per- 
f ec ' safety from port to port. I Ve never had no 
accident, not in twenty years, calm or storm, fog 
or what not — never one single accident. But 
now, what is it? You station a couple of A.B.'s 
forward, and a man in the cross-trees, and two 



192 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

more hands aft, all a-looking out till their eyes 
is bursting out of their heads and they think 
every bit of wreckage is a periscope. I seen 
'em call up a fireman in the middle of the night 
to look overboard, because they thought him 
knowing all about machinery could reco'nise a 
periscope if he saw it — which, coming up from 
the light below to thick darkness, he couldn't see 
nothing at all. But what's the use? All the 
time you can't see — but you can be seen. And 
if it's a mine, it's the same — you can't see it in 
the night, or in broken water. And either you 
get the ship through or you don't. It's pure 
chance. And that, ' ' said the pilot, ' ' is what we 
have to contend with. ' 9 

" I 'm glad, ' ' Bella remarked, ' * that my boy 's 
in Mesopotamia." 

"What can it be like, I often wonder?" said 
the Widow Chailey placidly. 

"Absofo^ely rotten," said the pilot, compre- 
hensively. ' ' That same evening, as it was get- 
ting dark, and we was feeling our way along — 
for there's no lights now — I see a fine big ves- 
sel about three miles off, and the next moment 
there was a great black burst of smoke, and a 
noise like a ton o' coal shot into the hold. I 
see the ship break in two amidships and down 
she went. Gone! 

"What could we do? Nothing. I kept my 
course, zig-zagging, all the night ; and twice an- 
other ship was right on top of us and I saved 
the ship by inches. Could have pushed the other 
ship off with my hand, very near. And next 
morning, just before the sunrise, when it's all 



THE PILOT'S STORY 193 

cold and dim, and a man's inside falls to zero, 
if you know what I mean, a steamship was pass- 
ing us to port, black against the sky, when up 
goes the cloud of smoke again, like a clap of 
thunder, and down she went, nose first, inside 
three minutes. Two ! It might have been us, 
but it just wasn't. And that evening, down 
went a vessel not a mile ahead of us. Three! 
Three in one trip. 

"The captain was shot up on deck out of his 
ship after every explosion just as if he'd been 
exploded himself, and last of all he says, 'It is 
enough. I not go to sea never again.' But of 
course he will. Where else can he go? After 
that third poor ship was put down I was glad 
enough to think we should be in port in three or 
four hours. But we was ten minutes late of 
Admiralty closing time, and had to cruise up 
and down all night long. That was the worst 
of all. 

"For a man," continued the pilot, "sets him- 
self to last a certain time like a chronometer, 
and when that time's exceeded, he 'as to wind 
himself up all over again. Drink would do it, 
but I never touch liquor on duty. . . . Another, 
miss, and one more all round, and then I'm for 
bed. What cheer, old sport? Got something 
on your mind, have you?" 

Mr. Bagwell, thus addressed, drank his liquor, 
and regarded the pilot with a vindictive eye. 

"Yes, I have," said Mr. BagweU. "And 111 
tell you what it is, straight. You're no better 
than a thief, you are. You're a pernicious 
water-rat. You're a ruddy interloper in this 



194 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

town. You come and you go, and you pay no 
rates and you're a flagrant disgrace. One of 
these days you'll get it in the neck, so I warn 
you. In the neck. And serve you damn well 
right." 

The pilot surveyed his accuser with a cheer- 
ful smile. 

"I don't know what I done to you, old friend, 
excep' hand you out one now and again," said 
the pilot, blandly. 

Then Mr. Bagwell laboriously repeated his 
words, as though they were a lesson he had 
learned by heart. 

" 'Ow can you say such things, and him 
bringing food into the country and risking his 
life?" said the Widow Chailey, mildly re- 
proachful. 

" Now look here," said the pilot, still immov- 
ably serene, ' ' answer me this one question. Do 
you know what you're a-saying? Or do you 
not?" 

Mr. Bagwell ^appeared to be earnestly inter- 
rogating his consciousness. 

"No, I do not," he said finally. 

The pilot smiled upon him in silence. 

"You'd better be going home," said the 
widow firmly. 

Mr. Bagwell rose without a word, and lum- 
bered out of the room and out of the house. 

"Such a pity," said the Widow Chailey; "he 
always gets abusive when he 'as a drop of drink 
in him. 

"Some of the customers don't like it," said 
the widow. 



xxvn 

Three Prisoners 

The Austrian submarine which had just 
torpedoed and sunk the steamship Andoni 
drew alongside the boat in which were the mas- 
ter and a party of the crew of the Andoni. The 
two officers on the conning-tower looked down 
upon their victims. The commanding officer of 
the submarine was slight of figure and bearded ; 
the lieutenant of fair complexion and clean 
shaven. A group of men, clad in slate-coloured 
dress, stood on the deck, aft of the conning- 
tower. 

The lieutenant asked the master if he had any 
papers, to which the master replied "No." 

"Come on board," said the lieutenant. "You 
are a prisoner of war. We are friends no 
longer." 

To torpedo a man's ship, which so far had 
been the extent of the commerce between the 
Austrian officers and the master of the Andoni, 
was a singular exhibition of friendship. So the 
master may have thought as he stepped on 
board the enemy and disappeared below. 

The lieutenant produced two letters, and 
gave them to the second officer in the boat, 

195 



196 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

requesting him to post them. The second officer, 
reading the addresses on the envelope, perceived 
to his surprise that they were addressed in 
English handwriting to persons in England. He 
did not know then what was afterwards dis- 
covered, that the letters were written respec- 
tively by two British masters who were already 
immured in the submarine. That was the only 
sign of their existence: two letters dumbly 
appearing from the belly of the enemy. The 
master of the Andoni, on going below, found 
two friends to make up for the loss of the friend- 
ship of the Austrians. The submarine departed, 
carrying the three British prisoners — whither? 

The Andoni was torpedoed in the Mediter- 
ranean, about fifty miles from Malta, at 7.35 
on the morning of January 8th, 1917. She sank 
in twelve minutes. A gun-layer and two col- 
oured firemen were killed. At half -past five the 
same evening the rest of the crew were picked 
up by a patrol vessel. 

The first of the British masters to be captured 
by the Austrian submarine was the master of 
the Lesbian. He made a running fight of it. 
That was on Friday, January 5th, 1917. About 
half -past three in the afternoon, when the Les- 
bian was steaming at ten knots on a zig-zag 
course, the submarine emerged some three miles 
astern and opened fire. 

The master instantly ordered the gunners to 
reply, and their second shot fell close to the 
submarine, which thereupon dropped further 
astern, to a position from which she could out- 
range the gun of the Lesbian. 



THREE PRISONERS 197 

The master, although he was outranged, tried 
to confuse and blind the submarine gunner by 
maintaining a rapid fire, but the shells of the 
enemy continued to fall all about the Lesbian 
and one pierced her stern. Thus the chase 
went on; the Lesbian, strung to full speed, 
running in a hail of shells, wreathed in smoke, 
fountains of water leaping alongside her, dis- 
tress signal-rockets rushing upwards and burn- 
ing ; and far astern the low grey conning-tower 
of the hunter came ploughing behind on a white 
bow- wave, with tongues of fire and smoke blown 
behind her and drifting over the bright sea, 

At a few minutes past four, the action having 
lasted nearly three-quarters of an hour, the 
master, seeing that his ammunition was nearly 
exhausted, hoisted the signal of surrender, 
stopped the ship, and ordered the crew into the 
boats. 

The rapidly approaching submarine con- 
tinued to fire, while the crew were getting away 
the two lifeboats and the cutter. The shells 
struck the ship, several among the crew were 
wounded, and the master was hurt in the head 
and leg. A shell struck the water close to one 
of the boats and made it leak. As the boats 
cleared the ship, she listed to port and began to 
settle down by the stern. 

The submarine drew alongside the boat in 
which was the master, and the commanding 
officer ordered him aboard. The submarine then 
ordered the boats "to clear out." 

"What about the master?" said the chief 
officer. 



198 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

"He is stopping here. Yon clear out," re- 
turned the Austrian, and proceeded to lay his 
submarine alongside the abandoned and slowly 
sinking ship. That was the last the men in the 
boats saw of the submarine — the shark side by 
side with the dying whale. 

The three boats were left 120 miles from 
Malta. The chief officer divided the crew of the 
cutter between the two lifeboats and abandoned 
the cutter. 

In one boat were the chief officer and a crew 
of seventeen, and in the other boat were the 
second officer and a crew of seventeen. Both 
boats hoisted sail and steered for Malta. It was 
then about five in the afternoon, the dark falling 
on a smooth sea, with a favourable breeze 
blowing from the south-east. 

The two boats sailed in company all that 
night; but the next morning each was lost to 
sight of the other in the haze. 

The chief officer held on all that day, January 
6th, and all that night. The next morning the 
wind shifted to the north-west, dead ahead on 
the course the chief officer was steering, and he 
decided to go about and run for the Greek coast. 

They had already been sailing in an open 
boat for two nights and a day. The boat was 
provisioned with meat, biscuits and water, but 
no one knew for how long the stock would be 
required. 

Then began a dreadful voyage of shifting 
winds, heavy seas, and deadly cold. Concerning 
its incidents, the chief officer is silent, mention- 
ing only that, although several ships were sight- 



THREE PRISONERS 199 

ed, none answered their signals. But we know 
that he and his men endured for ten more days 
and ten more nights ; and at noon on January 
17th they fetched up in a Greek port. By that 
time all the meat was gone, and there were only 
a few biscuits and a little water left. All were 
greatly exhausted and some suffered from swol- 
len feet. 

The Greek peasants took them in and did 
what they could for the castaways, until the 
French authorities conveyed them to hospital. 
In a fortnight all save three were fit to travel. 

In the meantime the second officer had better 
luck. He landed on the coast of Sicily on the 
7th, after sailing two nights and the better part 
of two days. 

"When the boats of the Lesbian had been two 
nights and a day at sea the Austrian submarine, 
with the master of the Lesbian on board, was 
cruising not far from them. 

On the afternoon of January 7th, the subma- 
rine sighted the steamship Mohacs field and 
opened fire upon her. The Mohacsfield, retreat- 
ing at full speed, returned the fire, and the chase 
continued for an hour. 

It was the usual story. The Mohacsfield was 
outranged and outpaced; she was hit, and the 
second officer and the steward were killed ; the 
mate and a fireman were wounded, and then the 
master was compelled to abandon ship. 

The submarine took the master on board as 
prisoner of war; and thus the master of the 
Lesbian and the master of the Mohacsfield made 
acquaintance and exchanged narratives; and 



200 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

perhaps one quoted to the other the words of 
the wild Hungarian song: "But no matter, 
more was lost on Mohacsfield"; and perhaps 
not. The Mohacsfield was sunk by a torpedo. 

The next day, January 8th, as already re- 
lated, the master of the Andoni joined the 
party ; and it was then that the two masters al- 
ready on board prevailed on the Austrian officer 
to send their letters home ; the two letters which 
were handed out from the depths of the subma- 
rine to the second officer of the Andoni. The 
rest, so far, is silence. 

The master of the Andoni had lost his ship by 
a torpedo fired from the submarine invisible 
beneath the surface. The masters of the Les- 
bian and the Mohacsfield had fought their ships 
to the last moment. Now all three were 
prisoners. 



xxvin 

Hide-and-Seek in the Bay 

Off the Spanish coast on January 23rd, 1917, 
the steamship Jevington was steering east, in 
misty, squally weather, the sea running in the 
long, mountainous swell of the Bay of Biscay. 

At two o'clock in the afternoon the master, 
going on the bridge, perceived a small steamer 
about five miles away, steering south. Through 
the mist the master was unable to decipher her 
ensign or the name and colours painted on her 
side. Presently the strange vessel was blotted 
out by the driving rain. 

A little after, the master sighted a fishing 
vessel, with two lug-sails, steering northwards 
as though she had just parted company from 
the strange steamship. Watching her, the mas- 
ter saw her alter course, as if to cross the bows 
of the Jevington; and then, in her turn, she 
vanished in a rain-squall. When the squall had 
passed the ring of haze closing in the Jevington 
had narrowed, and there was nothing to be seen 
on all the high, broken surges of the swell. 

It was about an hour and a half after the 
strange steamship had been sighted, when the 
master and the second mate, who were both on 

201 



202 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

the bridge, exclaimed at the same moment, 
" There's a submarine !' ' 

About 200 yards away on the port bow the 
periscope was projected above the surface, fol- 
lowed by the top of the conning-tower. The 
next moment the ship was struck. There was 
an explosion on the port side ; the hatches of the 
hold were blown in fragments into the air; the 
derrick leaped twelve feet upwards and crashed 
down on deck by the starboard rail, and the 
water spouted up through the hold, flooding 
the deck. 

The master instantly ordered the engines to 
be reversed to stop the way of the ship, and 
ordered all hands into the boats. While they 
were getting away he burned his confidential 
papers in the galley stove. 

In spite of the heavy run of sea, the boats 
were safely launched, and they pulled hard from 
the ship for about a quarter of a mile. Then 
they lay on their oars and watched the subma- 
rine nosing round the water-logged ship. The 
submarine had hoisted the German ensign, and 
presently approached the two boats. The chief 
officer pulled to meet her. 

The commanding officer of the submarine 
hailed the chief officer, asking him what he 
wanted. The chief officer replied that he 
wanted to return to the Jevington to fetch dry 
clothing. The submarine officer refused to 
grant the request. It was, he said, too risky to 
return to the ship. 

He laid the submarine alongside the chief 
officer's boat, and the chief officer noted that 



HIDE-AND-SEEK IN THE BAY 203 

the German commander was a small man, clean 
shaven, and that the lieutenant standing beside 
him on the conning-tower was of the larger, 
fair-complexioned German type. Some twelve 
men were on the deck of the submarine. Officers 
and men alike were dressed in dark green jack- 
ets and oilskin trousers, the officers having 
uniform caps. 

The little German captain caused six suits of 
good clothing to be handed out to the chief offi- 
cer. Then he asked for the captain, who was in 
the other boat, ordered the chief officer to cruise 
about where he was, telling him that another 
vessel would come to pick him up, and went 
away to the master's boat. 

The chief officer, sighting the strange steamer 
which had passed southward earlier in the 
afternoon, and which was now approaching at a 
distance of about four miles, pulled towards 
her, and he and his crew were taken on board. 

She was a Norwegian vessel, the Donstad, 
which had been captured early in the morning, 
and which was impressed by the submarine 
officer to serve as his consort. On board was a 
German prize crew of six men under the com- 
mand of an officer. 

In the meantime the submarine officer, draw- 
ing alongside the master's boat, ordered him to 
come on board. Being requested to produce his 
papers, the master gave the German the Jeving- 
ton's bills of lading, ship's register, and French 
bill of health — for what they were worth, which 
was not much. 

The submarine officer ordered the master to 



204 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

return to his boat, and when he was in it again 
the little German captain photographed his 
captives. He then ordered them to remain 
where they were, and told them, as he had told 
the chief officer, that he would send a vessel to 
pick them up. 

The submarine got under way and de- 
parted, and the master's boat tossed in the 
thickening darkness for an hour or more, when 
the people in the boat observed the lights of 
two steamers, one to the north and the other 
to the north-west. 

They saw a gun-flash near by the vessel to 
the north-west. The master of the Jevington 
decided to pull towards the other steamer. As 
he drew near he recognised her to be the 
strange vessel he had sighted early in the after- 
noon. She was the Donstad, which had already 
picked up the chief officer 's boat, and which now 
took the master and his boat's crew on board. 
The Jevington's people were searched by the 
German guard, who robbed the second engineer 
of money and trinkets. That petty larceny 
shows how the German sailor is foreign to the 
tradition of the sea. 

The submarine having collected the steamer 
at which she had fired, brought her close to the 
Donstad. She was the Leonora, a Spaniard. 
The submarine officer now ordered the German 
officer in command of the Donstad to send to 
him the master of the Jevington. 

At this time, between seven and eight of a 
dark and stormy night, the submarine, burning 
side-lights, and the two captured neutral 



HIDE-AND-SEEK IN THE BAY 205 

steamers, Donstad and Leonora, with all lights 
burning, lay stopped and near to one another; 
and a little way off, hidden in the darkness, the 
Jevington rolled deserted, her decks awash. 

The master of the Jevington was pulled 
across to the submarine by two of his own men 
and a German sailor. When the master was on 
board the submarine, the submarine officer had 
two bombs placed in the boat, and the men 
rowed her across to the Jevington. The master 
did not see his ship sunk, but he was told that 
she had been destroyed. 

The submarine officer informed the master 
that he had captured the Spanish steamship 
expressly for the purpose of taking the other 
officers and the men of the Jevmgton to Liver- 
pool, and that the master himself was to be sent 
to Germany. He had orders, he said, that all 
British masters captured should be brought to 
Germany. For the time being, the master 
was to remain on the Donstad. 

Then the master, with this agreeable prospect 
in his mind, was sent back to the Donstad; and 
his state was not improved by a painful accident 
which befell him. Climbing up the side of the 
Donstad, the escape of water from a steam 
heater scalded his leg. 

The rest of the Jevington* s people were now 
transhipped from the Donstad to the Leonora 
in four trips. They were all on board by ten 
o'clock, and all the time the two steamers and 
the submarine lay with lights burning. 

The master, with a scalded leg, was left in the 
Donstad. As for the rest of the officers and the 



206 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

men of the Jevington, they were punctually and 
safely landed at Liverpool on January 27th, 
as the submarine officer had said. 

During the next few days the master of the 
Jevington watched the operations of the sub- 
marine and her consort the Donstad cruising 
about the Bay, waiting for ships. The Donstad 
from time to time received her course from the 
submarine, and the two vessels were in constant 
communication by signal in the daytime and by 
Morse lamp at night. The Donstad carried all 
lights at night. The next day, January 24th, 
a gale blew up from the south with a rising sea. 
The master was allowed on the bridge, and was 
even welcomed in the chart-house, where he 
was shown the varying course and position of 
the Donstad, sent hither and thither by the 
submarine. He was profoundly interested in 
the submarine's behaviour in heavy weather. 
" Although a very heavy S.S.W. sea was 
running," he reports, "she kept above water, 
and appeared quite steady, and no water 
breaking over her turret. • ' 

This happy family party continued until the 
27th, when the submarine ordered all the people 
in the Donstad to come on board at daylight. 
The master went with the crew of the Donstad 
in her boats. The German prize crew followed, 
with provisions and plunder, having first ig- 
nited the fuses of the bombs, which presently 
exploded, sinking the Donstad. 

The master reported himself sick to the 
commanding officer of the submarine. He said 
his leg was very bad, and might he lie down? 



HIDE-AND-SEEK IN THE BAY 207 

The little German captain sent the master below, 
and gave instructions that his wound was to be 
dressed and that he was to be given a berth, an 
order which involved the deprivation of his 
berth of another officer. 

So the master lay in the German's bunk, with 
a pain in his leg and a pain in his mind, as he 
contemplated the prospect of a voyage in the 
submarine with a prison at the end of it. 

His fine ship was gone, his crew vanished. 
His possessions had gone down with the ship. 
As a man stricken with sickness remembers 
what he was in health, and marvels how happy 
he has been without knowing it, so the master 
recalled the voyage. He had been anxious, but 
day after day had gone by, and he had come 
through, till he was within three or four days 
of home. He traversed every incident of that 
misty day of wind and squalls; the apparition 
of the steamer steering south, the little sailing 
craft which stole from behind her, and which he 
now knew to have been a submarine ; the inter- 
val during which all seemed well ; then the peri- 
scope terribly shooting up ahead, and the blow 
of the torpedo, which told him that all was over, 
while his head yet rung with the noise of the 
explosion. . . . Ought he to have done this? 
Ought he to have done that? Why did he not 
think of the other? Then came the wet and 
cheerless tossing in the boats, under the per- 
emptory orders of the German officer; his 
tedious days of suspense on board the German 
prize, with the added worry of his wounded leg ; 
and now he lay captive in this fetid cell, the 



208 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

remorseless clashing of the engines in his ears. 
He might be there for two or three weeks, for 
the submarine, instead of risking the Channel, 
might go home north about Scotland and down 
the North Sea to a German port. And, also, 
she might be sunk on the way by a British ship 
of war. 

Truly it seemed to the master that he had 
been brought very low. And, like a number of 
other people, he was furious with some person 
or persons unknown, by whose fault or default 
these things had befallen him. ... He did not 
know, then, any more than you, the reader (if 
you have been playing fair), that his story was 
to have a happy ending. 

At three o'clock in the afternoon someone 
told him that a steamer was in sight, and half 
an hour later the submarine submerged. The 
master, from his bunk, watched the German 
officer peering into the mirror of the periscope, 
which he swung on its pivot by two handles 
fixed at about the level of his eyes. The German, 
having read the name of the unconscious vessel, 
which was the Fulton, of Bergen, and had the 
Norwegian flag blazoned on her side, called the 
master of the Donstad to the periscope to find 
if he knew this ship of his own country. 

The master of the Donstad seems to have 
satisfied the Germans that the ship was of Nor- 
way, and that she carried no gun, for the sub- 
marine came to the surface astern of the Fulton, 
and sounded the syren as a signal she was to 
stop. The ship stopped accordingly. The mas- 
ter lay in his bunk while the Germans ascended 
to the deck and descended again, and there was 



HIDE-AND-SEEK IN THE BAY 209 

coming and going, and an armed party quitted 
the submarine. 

The commanding officer of the submarine 
took possession of the Fulton, sending a prize 
crew on board. 

Then the master was suddenly ordered on 
deck, together with the master and crew of the 
Donstad. The master was informed by the 
commanding officer of the submarine that 
although his orders were to take all captured 
British masters to Germany, as it had been 
reported to him that the master was suffering 
from a wounded leg, the master would be sent 
on shore with the crew of the Donstad. So that 
when the engineer of the Donstad permitted a 
leak in his heating apparatus, he was uncon- 
sciously serving as a wedge in the hand of des- 
tiny, which presently drove the master of the 
Jevmgton apart from captivity and prison. The 
commanding officer of the submarine may re- 
ceive all due credit for compassion. It is also 
the case that a sick man, especially if he occu- 
pies an officer's berth, is very inconvenient in a 
submarine. 

On January 27th, the day on which the crew 
of the Jevmgton were landed at Liverpool by 
the Leonora, the master of the Jevington was 
landed from the lifeboat of the Fulton, another 
neutral ship, at a Spanish port. The crew of 
the Fulton and the crew of the Donstad were 
landed at the same time. The Fulton herself, 
manned by the German prize crew, proceeded 
to sea. So far as Norway is concerned, her 
mercantile marine might as well be owned by 
Germany. 



XXIX 

But Nine op Her Crew Alive' ' 

on the morning of January 
27th, 1917, in very dirty weather, in the North 
Atlantic. One of his Majesty's patrol boats 
righting out a full easterly gale with a breaking 
sea, smothered in water, violently flung to and 
fro. To the lieutenant-commander, E.N.E., 
comes a messenger with a signal pad, on which 
is neatly written an intercepted wireless S.O.S. 
call: "S.S. Artist sinking rapidly, mined or tor- 
pedoed in " then followed her position. 

The lieutenant-commander replied by wireless 
that he was proceeding to her assistance. No 
answer came, then or afterwards. The lieuten- 
ant-commander increased his speed up to the 
limit the boat could stand in that sea, and 
steered for the spot indicated. He shoved 
along for two hours ; then, as the vessel was be- 
ing strained and the engines were racing, he re- 
duced speed ; an hour later he was obliged again 
to reduce speed. At half -past one he arrived at 
the position indicated. There was nothing but 
the boiling waste of waters. 

210 



"BUT NINE OF HER CREW ALIVE" 211 

The lieutenant-commander cruised twelve 
miles in one direction and twelve miles in 
another; the wind increasing, the sea rising 
higher, the cold very bitter. 

At three o'clock in the afternoon the lieu- 
tenant-commander was obliged to heave-to. He 
did not think that in such weather the boats of 
the sinking ship could have been launched, or if 
they were launched, that they could live. That 
night it blew harder than ever, and the ther- 
mometer fell to 37 degrees. At nine o'clock 
the next morning the lieutenant-commander 
went to succour another ship in distress, and so 
passes out of this story. 

He was right and wrong in his surmise. A 
little after the lieutenant-commander had re- 
ceived the S.O.S. call from the Artist, the boats 
had been launched from her, and one lived. 
While the lieutenant-commander, the same 
afternoon, was beating to and fro in the raging 
sea and icy spindrift, there was a boat with its 
miserable crew somewhere near. 

It was between eight and nine on that Satur- 
day morning, January 27th, 1917, when the 
Artist's wireless operator sent out his call. The 
Artist, sailing from an American port, had run 
right into the gale ; and she had been hove-to for 
three nights and two days. Between eight and 
nine in the morning, without a sign of a subma- 
rine, the dull boom of an explosion roared 
through the tumult of the gale, and a torpedo, 
striking the starboard side forward, tore a huge 
hole close upon the water-line. 

There was not a moment to lose. The violent 



212 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

pitching of the ship, lying head to sea, omi- 
nously slackened as she began to settle by the 
head. The sea ponred over her bows and swept 
the decks from stem to stern. Waist-deep in 
water, the crew struggled desperately to lower 
the three lifeboats. In one boat were the master 
with the second and third officers and part of the 
crew ; in another were the chief officer and part 
of the crew ; and in the third were a cadet and 
part of the crew. What followed is taken from 
the cadet's narrative. 

He was in his boat, which was swung out on 
the falls, and he saw the chief officer's boat, also 
swung out, dashed against the ship's side as 
she rolled, and broken. The next moment the 
cadet's boat was borne upwards by a rising 
wave, so that the after fall was pushed upwards 
and thus unhooked. As the boat was left hang- 
ing by the bows her stern dropped suddenly. 
Two men were flung overboard and sank at 
once. The next wave bodily lifting the boat on 
an even keel, enabled the cadet to unhook the 
foremost fall, and the men, pulling hard, got 
clear of the ship. 

As he pulled clear, the cadet saw the chief 
officer's boat filled with water to the gun- 
wale, broadside on to the tremendous sea, and 
helpless. She was never seen again. 

In the meanwhile the master's boat had also 
pulled clear of the sinking ship. Both boats laid 
out sea anchors and drifted in sight of each 
other all that terrible day. 

There were forty-five persons in all on board 
the Artist when she was torpedoed. Some had 



"BUT NINE OF HER CREW ALIVE" 213 

gone down in the chief officer's boat, some were 
in the captain's boat, and in the cadet's boat 
were sixteen persons. 

That night, the night of January 27th, as the 
lieutenant-commander stated, the gale increased 
in violence and the thermometer dropped to 37 
degrees. Somehow, the frozen, wet, exhausted 
men must keep baling out the boat, and her head 
to the sea. Concerning the horrors of that 
night the cadet says nothing. It is possible that 
the partial paralysis of the faculties, induced by 
long exposure, dulls the memory. There is no 
consciousness of time, but a quite hopeless con- 
viction of eternity. The state of men enduring 
prolonged and intense hardship seems to them 
to have had no beginning and to have no end. 
After a period of acute suffering, varying ac- 
cording to the individual, the edge of pain is 
blunted and numbness sets in. In many cases 
the retardation of the circulation, withdrawing 
the full supply of blood to the head, causes de- 
lirium, in which men shout and babble, drink 
salt water, and leap overboard. By degrees the 
heart's action is weakened, and finally stops. 
Then the man dies. Seven men in the cadet's 
boat did in fact die. 

After the night of the 27th the captain's boat 
was no more seen. The cadet and his crew 
alone were left of the people of the Artist. 

They drifted in the gale all that Sunday, the 
28th, all Monday, all Monday night. Men died, 
one after another, and the pitiless sea received 
their bodies. When each one passed the cadet 



214 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

does not state. Probably lie could not remem- 
ber. For the survivors were dying, too. They 
were dying upwards from their feet, in which 
frostbite had set in. One man, a fireman, en- 
dured the agony of a broken arm. . . . 

On the night of January 29th-30th, when 
the castaways had been adrift for three days 
and three nights, they saw the distant lights of 
land towards the north. The wind and sea 
began to go down, and at daylight the crew 
hoisted sail and steered north. At a little after 
nine on that Tuesday morning, exactly seventy- 
two hours since they had cleared the sinking 
ship, they sighted the smoke of an outward- 
bound steamer. Twenty minutes later nine men 
were taken on board, and one dead man was left 
in the boat. 

The rescued men were transferred to a patrol 
boat, which landed them in an Irish port the 
same evening. Here, says the cadet, "the 
Shipwrecked Mariners' authorities took care 
of us and did all they possibly could for us. ' ' 

Five of the nine survivors were placed in 
hospital. The remaining four, of whom the 
sturdy cadet was one, speedily recovered. 

The boat with the dead man in her was picked 
up by a patrol vessel. 

A brief official account of the affair was pub- 
lished at the time by the Secretary of the Ad- 
miralty, who remarked that ' ' The pledge given 
by Germany to the United States not to sink 
merchant ships without ensuring the safety of 
the passengers and crews has been broken be- 



"BUT NINE OF HER CREW ALIVE" 215 

fore, but never in circumstances of more cold- 
blooded brutality. ' ' 

But when it comes to brutality the Germans 
can do better than that, as will be seen. What's 
the use of talking? 



XXX 

Dead Men's Luck 

On the evening of Sunday, February 4th, 
1917, the steamship Dauntless was in the north- 
ern part of the Bay of Biscay, outward bound 
with a cargo of coal. At six o 'clock the master 
and the second officer were on the bridge, keep- 
ing a vigilant watch in the clear darkness, whit- 
ened by the foam of a heaving sea, There was 
nothing in sight, when there came the report of 
a gun, and a shell sang over the bridge, and then 
another. One passed through the funnel, the 
other smashed the steering-gear, so that when 
the master tried to put the helm over it jammed, 
and the Dauntless went straight on. The man 
at the wheel was wounded in the leg. The mas- 
ter was wounded in the right shoulder and left 
arm. Projectiles whistled from out the dark- 
ness. The ship was hit and a fireman was killed. 
The master stopped the ship and blew four 
blasts on the whistle, signifying that the ship 
was being abandoned. The invisible submarine 
continued to fire. The two lifeboats were got 
away under shell fire and rifle fire. Two men, 
one on either side the second officer, were 
wounded as they were embarking in the star- 

216 



DEAD MEN'S LUCK 217 

board lifeboat. The chief officer seems to have 
been in command of the port lifeboat, but there 
is a doubt on this point. For the moment the 
port lifeboat disappears, for her crew rowed 
away and were no more seen by the people in 
the master's boat. It is necessary to be par- 
ticular about the boats, as will appear. We have 
now to do with the starboard lifeboat, in which 
were the master and seventeen others. One 
dead man was left in the ship. The master and 
three men were wounded. 

It was then about half -past six. The sub- 
marine hove into view and drew alongside the 
master's boat. She bore the marks of usage 
and her gun was rusty. Officers and men wore 
blue uniform. The commanding officer ordered 
the master and the crew on board the subma- 
rine. Then the submarine officer asked the 
master if there was anyone left in the Dauntless. 
Upon being told that the ship was deserted, save 
for one dead man, the German officer ordered 
some of his men to go on board her in the mas- 
ter's boat. He presented a revolver at the mas- 
ter's head, telling him that if anyone was found 
alive in the Dauntless the master would imme- 
diately be shot. 

What the Germans were after was plunder. 
The men of the Dauntless, sullenly grouped 
upon the deck of the submarine, during an hour 
or so contemplated the pirates bringing loot 
from the Dauntless to the submarine in the 
Dauntless 's jolly-boat, which had been left on 
board, and the starboard lifeboat. The second 
officer saw tinned provisions, enamel paint and 



218 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

turpentine, among other things, handed up from 
the boats. 

At about eight o'clock, when the boats were 
emptied, the men of the Dauntless, gazing at the 
dim ship looming on the dark, saw a red flash 
leap from her, and heard a dull explosion, and 
the dim ship disappeared. 

The submarine officer ordered the master and 
the crew of the Dauntless into the starboard 
lifeboat. But when the master represented that 
the lifeboat had been damaged by gunfire and 
was leaking, the German kindly allowed the 
master to take the jolly-boat also. The master 
divided the crew between the two boats. In the 
jolly-boat were the master, the second officer, 
the chief, second and third engineers, the stew- 
ard and a fireman; seven persons in all. The 
rest went away in the leaking starboard life- 
boat, which soon afterwards parted from the 
master's boat, and was never seen again. 

Already the port lifeboat had gone away; 
but her story is to come. With the starboard 
lifeboat we have no more to do. There remains 
the jolly-boat. 

As she parted from the submarine the master 
asked a German if the land was five miles away, 
and the German replied "More." There is 
indeed some uncertainty as to the exact position 
from which the boats started, as there was an 
increasing easterly wind, and also the drift of 
the current in those waters. 

It is not known if there were provisions in 
the starboard lifeboat which went away and 
was no more seen. But it is quite certain that 



DEAD MEN'S LUCK 219 

the Germans, having stolen all the provisions 
they conld find in the Dauntless, sent the seven 
people adrift in the jolly-boat without food or 
water, in rough weather, and one of them, the 
master, badly wounded. 

The master, despite the shrapnel bullets he 
carried in his left arm and shoulder, steered; 
the other six men rowed, and went on rowing. 
The wind and sea had risen, and were dead 
against the easterly course steered by the 
master; the cold was extreme, with occasional 
storms of snow. They rowed all that night. At 
about six o'clock the next morning the steward 
fell forward, dead. 

They went on rowing all that day, Monday, 
without bite or sup; cold, wet, tormented by 
thirst, their tongues swelling, their lips black, 
their skin cracking with the salt spray and the 
bitter wind; still the five men rowed, and the 
dead man lay in the bottom of the boat, and the 
master steered. In the evening they committed 
the body of the steward to the deep. Then they 
sighted land. It was near nightfall; a thick 
shower of snow drove down and they lost the 
lie of the land, though it was no more than three 
or four miles away. 

They rowed all that night. At daylight, next 
morning, Tuesday, February 6th, they sighted 
land again, and so they went on rowing. They 
saw the breakers bursting all along the beach; 
but, wholly spent, they could do no more than 
keep the boat just moving; and as her nose 
touched ground a wave capsized her, and the six 
men were flung into the surf. 



220 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

They struggled up on the beach and fell down. 
Two of them, the second engineer and the fire- 
man, then and there died on the wet sand where 
they lay. 

About half -past ten on that Tuesday morning 
a French coastguardsman, fully armed, was 
marching his lonely beat along the shore, when 
he saw four bowed figures stumbling towards 
him in the distance. A little beyond them a 
capsized boat was tossing in the surf. 

The Frenchman, with admirable presence of 
mind, immediately decided that four German 
sailors had landed. He drew his revolver, and, 
swiftly approaching the strangers, commanded 
them to put up their hands. Three of them 
stiffly lifted swollen hands ; the fourth tried to 
lift his arms a little. They stared upon him 
with faces like the faces of men in torment, and 
one began to speak, uttering strange sounds, 
thickly and slowly, framing the same words 
over and over again, with a kind of pitiful des- 
peration. 

And presently the French coastguardsman 
saw light. Ah, what a change ! And there was 
his little house, where the English could rest 
until they were taken away by the authorities to 
hospital. 

Ten days later, the master had so far recov- 
ered that he was able to leave his bed, and the 
second officer, the chief engineer and the third 
engineer were at home in England. 

When the six men in the jolly-boat 
reached land they had been adrift during nearly 
forty hours. That was on Tuesday, February 



DEAD MEN'S LUCK 221 

6th. Where, during that time, was the port 
lifeboat! No one knew. All that the survivors 
in the jolly-boat knew was that when the boats 
were lowered from the Dauntless, the port life- 
boat had gone away with four (or five) men in 
her. 

The Dauntless was abandoned on Sunday 
evening, February 4th. On the following Fri- 
day, the 9th, a Spanish trawler, cruising in the 
Bay of Biscay, sighted a boat tossing in the dis- 
tance. There were men in her, but whether 
dead or alive the Spaniard could not discern. 

Coming alongside, the Spanish sailors looked 
down upon four men huddled together. Their 
eyes moved. Otherwise they were dead. 

During five days and five nights they had 
been adrift on the winter sea. They had a little 
biscuit. They had no water. There were the 
two seaman gunners, the cook and a negro. The 
Spaniards landed them and they were placed in 
hospital. 

After three months in hospital one of the 
gunners came home and made his report, which 
begins: "I was the gun's crew of the Daunt- 
less," and goes on to describe his experiences in 
the boat in two, sentences : " We drifted about in 
the Bay for five days. We had biscuits but no 
water. ' ' 

These four men in the port lifeboat, and the 
master and the three officers in the jolly-boat 
survived out of the twenty-three people of the 
Dauntless. 



XXXI 

Firing on the Boats 

Said the third officer to the quartermaster, 
who was at the wheel, " James" — but that was 
not his name — " James," said the third officer, 
"I think there is a submarine on our starboard 
bow." 

The quartermaster's subsequent impressions 
were extremely crowded. The dusk of the late 
afternoon was thickening the easterly haze; 
and, staring across the long, smooth swell, the 
quartermaster discerned the dark conning- 
tower and lighter hull of a submarine some two 
and a half miles away, and the indistinct figures 
of two officers on the conning-tower, and three 
or four men grouped on the deck. At the same 
time he was aware that the third officer was 
speaking to the captain down the voice-tube. 
Then a gun spoke on the submarine and a shell 
went by in the air. The master arrived on the 
bridge. So did the chief officer. The master 
turned the engine-room telegraph to stop, blew 
on the whistle the four short blasts signifying 
"Abandon ship," and ordered the boats to be 

222 



FIRING ON THE BOATS 228 

swung out and manned. All these things hap- 
pened very quickly. The quartermaster having 
run to his boat, saw a shell burst in the wheel- 
house which he had just quitted. 

In the meantime the master on the bridge saw 
the submarine sink and disappear. Watching, 
he saw her emerge again on the port side. She 
opened fire again. The master went to his 
cabin, possibly to fetch his confidential papers. 
The starboard lifeboat, which was the master's 
boat, had pulled clear of the ship. 

The port lifeboat was being lowered. The 
submarine continued deliberately to fire. It 
is one of the clearest cases on record of a Ger- 
man submarine officer continuing to fire upon a 
ship after she had surrendered and while the 
crew were getting away the boats. The boat- 
swain and three men were severely wounded by 
shell splinters. A shell exploded in the fiddley 
(or deck-house), setting the bunkers on fire. 
Paraffin oil was pouring from the stricken ship, 
slowly spreading a viscous surface upon the 
heaving waters. 

The master came on deck to find his own boat 
gone, and the chief officer's boat waiting for 
him, blood all about, five men huddled and help- 
less, splinters flying, and, standing off in the 
twilight, the sea-wolves at their murderous 
work. 

That night the boatswain died of his wounds 
and was buried at sea. 

It was February 7th, 1917, when the steam- 
ship Saxonicm was attacked, and the crew sent 
adrift in open boats in the North Atlantic. 



224 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

(Further south, the port lifeboat of the Dcwnt- 
less was even then drifting with four starving 
wretches in her.) 

The chief officer's boat was picked up the 
next morning by a patrol vessel. The second 
officer's boat drifted for three days and three 
nights, when she was picked up by one of his 
Majesty's ships. (That was on the 10th, the 
day after the Dauntless' survivors had been res- 
cued by the Spanish fishermen.) 

The patrol boat which found the chief officer 
and his people steamed to the scene of the cap- 
ture, and there beheld a sullenly undulating 
field of oil, strewn with floating wreckage, the 
remains of the Saxonian. 



XXXII 

The Slavers 

The story of the Gravina is told by one man, 
a Spaniard, who escaped. He told the story in 
a Scottish port, nearly three months after the 
Gravina was lost. He came to the port in a 
British ship, in which he was serving as fire- 
man; and you can conceive the rough figure, 
with its swarthy and hard features and dark 
eyes, clad in stained seafaring clothes, telling 
his adventures with point and freedom. There 
is indeed in his narrative a certain vividness of 
detail usually absent in the records of British 
seamen. 

The Spaniard was donkeyman in the steam- 
ship Gravina, which was bound from a Spanish 
port to London with a cargo of oranges. It was 
on that fatal February 7th, 1917, when the Sax- 
onian was put down, and the four men of the 
Dauntless were drifting in their boat in the Bay 
of Biscay, not to mention other calamities. The 
Gravina was less than a hundred miles from the 
coast of Ireland, pitching and rolling in a rough 
sea. At about a quarter to eight in the evening 
the donkeyman was attending to his engine, 

225 



226 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

when he felt, as he says, a terrific explosion. 
"Without knowing exactly how I got there," he 
continues, "I found myself in the water, and 
just got a glimpse of the ship before she sank. 
The whole midship part seemed to have been 
blown out of her. Her funnel and bridges were 
gone, and she seemed to be in two parts. She 
sank well inside of a minute. ' ' And that was the 
end of the Gravina, torpedoed without warning. 

Some of the crew clung to pieces of wreck. 
Beaten upon by the cold sea, gradually freezing 
to death, some thus kept afloat for three hours. 
Then the submarine appeared, and cast life- 
buoys attached to lines into the water, and so 
drew fifteen wretched castaways on board, fif- 
teen out of twenty-two of the crew of the Gra- 
vina. It seems that the submarine waited for 
three hours, because, owing to the arrival of a 
British vessel of war, she was obliged to sub- 
merge. 

The rescued men were sent down the after 
hatch of the submarine into her torpedo and 
ammunition store, where they were each served 
out with a glass of gin. There were the master, 
two mates, the second engineer, one Norwegian, 
two men of undefined nationality, and eight 
Spanish firemen, among whom was the donkey- 
man. 

Says the donkeyman, "The commander and 
officers of the submarine were delighted with 
this piece of work, and talked of it as being 
the finest explosion they had seen by a torpedo.' ' 

The donkeyman, conversing with the German 
sailors, was informed by them of the extraor- 



THE SLAVERS SW 

dinary merits of German submarines and of 
German guns and of everything German. The 
donkeyman also learned that in addition to the 
crew of the Gravina, there were two British 
masters, prisoners of war, secluded in the for- 
ward part of the vessel. 

The seventeen captives were nine days on 
board the submarine. During the whole of that 
time, or the greater part of it, they were bat- 
tened down in the hold. Of the miseries they 
endured, of the foul atmosphere, the cramped 
space, the deadly cold (for a submerged subma- 
rine takes the temperature of the water), the 
perpetual menace of death, or, failing death, the 
terror of a German prison: of all these things, 
the donkeyman says nothing. He merely re- 
cords that the captives were fed well, chiefly on 
tinned commodities. Now and again they heard 
the firing of the gun on deck. 

The German sailors told him that two more 
steamers and a sailing ship had been sunk, and 
that another steamer had been attacked, but had 
beaten off the submarine with gunfire and 
forced her to submerge. 

On the ninth day of their captivity the 
prisoners were landed at Heligoland, where 
they were clapped in prison, " where we were 
kept for three days, and lived on half a pound 
of bread and turnips. ' ' 

Thence the party was sent in a patrol steamer 
to Bremerhaven, " where we were kept in a 
commandeered restaurant, and then a barracks, 
and fed on half a pound of bread, turnips and 
weak coffee." 



228 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

Thence they were sent by rail to the huge 
internment camp at Brandenburg. Here the 
officers were separated from the men. At least 
nine of the men were neutrals. The British 
subjects were civilians, owning the rights of 
the civilians of a belligerent country. But the 
Germans treated neutrals and civilians alike as 
slaves. 

The men were quartered in a shed. They 
were inoculated on the day of their arrival. 
They were put to work. They were made to 
saw wood and to build roads. They were paid 
lm. 2f. a week. "And we still lived on half a 
pound of bread and turnips." 

One of the Spaniards protested against his 
treatment, and was beaten about the head for 
his pains. 

The donkeyman knew not by what means his 
repatriation was arranged; but after three 
weeks ' slavery he and the rest of the Spaniards 
were sent back through Switzerland to Spain. 
Then he shipped again in a British ship, and so 
came to Scotland, where he told his history. 

What of the British prisoners? From that 
ghastly slave camp of five or six thousand cap- 
tives, Russians, French, Japanese and British, 
arrive now and again sinister reports of the 
brutality of sentries, of starvation, of the rob- 
bing of their parcels of the British, of bullying 
and maltreatment. It seems, however, that the 
officers of the Gravina, after about a month in 
purgatory, were moved to another camp. 



XXXIII 

A Desperate Pass 

There were wild weather and wicked doings 
in the Atlantic on February 7th, 1917 ; but on 
the other side of England, in the North Sea, it 
seemed to the master of the little steamship 
Hanna Larsen, that all was peaceful enough. 
He had left the Port of London just after mid- 
night on the preceding day, going down with the 
tide, past the three-decker men-of-war training 
hulks, and that mariner's mark, the spire of 
Grave,send church, and round the wide bend past 
Thameshaven, and so out to the Nore as the 
sunrise shone ahead, and then he steered north. 

The night of the 7th fell hazy and calm, with 
a smooth sea. At a little after eleven o'clock 
the master, leaving the second officer on the 
bridge, went into the chart-room. 

He was startled by the sound of a gunshot. 
As he ran to the bridge three more shells sang 
about his ears. The master could not detect 
whence they came. He ordered the engines to 
be reversed to take the way off the ship ; told the 
second officer to read the patent log; assembled 
the ship's company on deck, with the exception 
of the chief engineer, a fireman and a donkey- 
man who remained below. The boats were 
swung out ready for lowering. Then nothing 

229 



230 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

happened. They waited. They waited for a 
quarter of an hour. The shots might have been 
fired by a British ship at an enemy unseen by 
the people of the Hanna Larsen; or a British 
ship might have mistaken her for an enemy ; or 
an enemy submarine might have opened fire, 
and then taken fright at the approach of a Brit- 
ish ship of war and dived. In that indecipher- 
able and mysterious darkness anything was 
possible. 

The master decided to go on. When a ship 
has been stopped and the crew are expecting in 
imminent danger to abandon ship, it is always 
something of a test of discipline to issue orders 
to carry on. 

The men returned to their stations; the en- 
gines went slow ahead and then quickened to 
full speed. A few minutes afterwards another 
shot came over. It was fired from off the star- 
board quarter and passed just over the bridge. 
The master again reversed engines. He sound- 
ed three blasts on the whistle, signifying 
"Abandon ship." Three more shells were 
fired, striking the boat deck and breaking a 
steam-pipe, so that the steam poured up on deck. 
The master ordered the men into the boats and 
burned his confidential papers in the galley fire. 

The unseen enemy continued to fire while the 
men were embarking in the boats. The second 
engineer, the steward and two able seamen were 
wounded. 

WTiile the two boats were pulling away from 
the ship the master saw a submarine, gleaming 
a faint grey upon the dark, stealing round the 



A DESPERATE PASS 231 

bows of the ship. She bore no flag, nor mark 
nor number. 

The commanding officer of the submarine 
hailed the boats and ordered them alongside. 
As the men in the master's boat hung on to the 
port-side of the submarine, a muffled figure in 
her conning-tower demanded to be told where 
was the master. When the master replied, he 
was ordered on board the submarine, together 
with four or five hands. The chief officer, two 
able seamen and the engineer's steward fol- 
lowed the master on board the enemy, a volun- 
tary action on their part worth noting. 

Five of the Hanna Lar sen's crew remained in 
the boat, and these were joined by several Ger- 
man sailors, bringing bombs on board. 

In the meantime the second lifeboat had made 
fast to the stern of the submarine. 

The master told the commanding officer of the 
submarine that one of the master's crew was 
badly wounded in the head, whereupon the Ger- 
man officer ordered one of his people to fetch 
lint and dress the wound. 

The master, being behind the conning-tower, 
did not see what happened next, but the chief 
engineer, in his boat astern of the submarine, 
afterwards told the master that the master's 
boat, partly manned by the five men of the 
Hanna Larsen and partly by Germans, pulled 
over to the Hanna Larsen, into which the Ger- 
mans climbed. They slung their bombs over the 
starboard side, searched the ship and took food 
and clothing and other things, put these in the 
boat, ignited the fuses of the bombs and pulled 



232 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

back to the submarine. A little after, flames lit 
the night, and there were several heavy explo- 
sions. 

The chief officer, the steward and the two able 
seamen who had followed the master on board 
were ordered into their boat. The chief engi- 
neer, in the other boat, was ordered on board 
the submarine. With the master, he was sent 
below. Then the commanding officer of the sub- 
marine ordered the men in the two boats to 
shove off. They were subsequently landed. 
The wounded men went to hospital, where one 
of the able seamen died. 

Turn we to the master and the chief engineer, 
helpless and captive among the strange and evil 
under-water folk who had robbed them of their 
ship. They contemplated the stiff, unseaman- 
like figures, the hard and servile faces moving 
in that long, rounded cell crammed with myste- 
rious mechanism, going about their murderous 
business in the dead of night ; and a more hope- 
less situation the two British seamen had never 
confronted. 

Presently a German officer descended. He 
wanted to know where the master kept his chro- 
nometer, sextant and papers, because, he said, 
a party was going to the Hanna Larsen again. 

The master subsequently learned that the 
ship was again plundered, and that she was 
finally sunk by the explosion of bombs placed 
inside the hull. (As a matter of fact, she did not 
sink till the following day.) 

The two prisoners slept that night in ham- 
mocks on the floor. They slept. But the next 



A DESPERATE PASS 

morning the master had no stomach for his 
breakfast. Empty as he was, he was summoned 
to the commanding officer, where he sat in 
sacred isolation in his cabin aft. 

The German offered wine to the master, 
either because he was obviously ailing, or to 
loosen his tongue, and proceeded to question 
him as to the position of the British minefield. 
Getting very little satisfaction on this point, the 
German told the master that he, the master, and 
the chief engineer had been taken prisoner, be- 
cause orders had been issued to capture all 
masters and chief engineers, so that the supply 
of officers for the British merchant service 
should be depleted. The German officer also 
said that the two prisoners would be taken to 
Zeebrugge and thence to Euhleben. He added 
that he had put down eighteen ships, and would 
sink thirty before he returned to port. That 
was what he said. But he was mistaken. 

After this encouraging conversation, the mas- 
ter and the chief engineer occupied themselves 
in deducing what was going forward on deck 
from what they heard and saw below. They 
had scarce a dull moment. 

The submarine was cruising on the surface. 
Soundings were taken every twenty minutes. 
From time to time came the report and the vi- 
bration of firing, the men below passingup shells 
to the gunners on deck. After one of these at- 
tacks a German brought down below a sextant, 
a chronometer and a Norwegian flag, and proud- 
ly exhibited these trophies to the prisoners. 

The two prisoners, like others in the same 



234 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

case, saw no alternative in their future be- 
tween being taken to a German prison camp, 
and being sunk with the submarine by a British 
ship of war. And in these waters, off the Eng- 
lish coast, it was singularly probable that they 
would be sent to the bottom without a chance of 
escape, especially as the German officer in com- 
mand was so busy and zealous. That morning, 
for instance, he had begun at eight o 'clock with 
the Norwegian . . . He was still at it. 

It was about two hours later when a couple 
of rounds were fired on deck; and the next 
moment officers and men came tumbling down 
below, exhibiting every mark of terror, and the 
submarine was made hurriedly to dive. The 
spectacle was far from inspiriting. 

The two prisoners fortified themselves with 
dinner, which was good and plentiful, and 
awaited the next crisis. It arrived about half- 
past one. 

Firing broke out again on deck. It ceased, 
and the submarine dived below the surface. Of- 
ficers and men were clearly in a state of high 
tension. There was a pause. Then came a for- 
midable explosion, and a tremendous shock 
jarred the submarine from end to end. The top 
plating was burst open, and the water poured 
into the vessel. Now, thought the two prison- 
ers, it has come. This is the end. . . . 

The commanding officer issued sharp orders 
to the men at their stations beside the valves, 
and the, submarine rose swiftly to the surface. 
The captain, followed by the rest of the officers 
and the whole of the crew, crowded up the lad- 
ders. They left the engines running. They left 



A DESPERATE PASS 

the two prisoners below, the water spouting 
through the buckling plates into the chamber, 
the vessel heeling over. Outside, shot after 
shot rang out ; the two men below felt the shock 
of their impact, and pieces of the conning-tower 
crashed down the hatchway. 

The master and the chief engineer decided to 
die, if die they must, in the open. So up they 
went, into the clean air and the daylight; and 
there, ranging up alongside, was a British man- 
of-war. The master flourished his handkerchief. 
The Germans, each man's hand uplifted, stood 
ranked along the heeling deck, like a row of 
mechanical toys. Two Germans lay prone on 
the deck, with blood about them. Two were 
in the water. 

The man-of-war was getting a boat away, and, 
perceiving that the surrender was accepted, one 
of the Germans went below and stopped the en- 
gines. 

The master and the chief engineer saw the 
bluejackets swinging to their oars, saw the offi- 
cer sitting in the stern-sheets, heard the order 
"Way enough' ' as the boat curved round to 
come alongside. 

Then the master hailed. "We are two 
Britishers, taken prisoners last night,' ■ he 
bellowed. 

' ' Jump in, ' ' said the officer, as the boat drew 
abreast of the tilted deck of the submarine. 

As for the commanding officer of the subma- 
rine, he was no more seen. He was first on the 
conning-tower during the attack, and was killed 
by a shell. So he did not sink thirty ships after 
all. 



XXXIV 

Sticking to It 

The master of the oil tank-steamship Pinna, 
having been on the bridge for many hours, was 
taking what he called a cat-nap in the chart- 
room, lying on the mattress ed seat, his head 
close to the voice-tube communicating with the 
bridge. Through his sleep there penetrated 
into his consciousness the vision of a small craft 
sailing off the starboard beam and firing at 
something. The master sprang bright awake. 
It was the chief officer 's voice speaking from the 
bridge, and in a moment the master was stand- 
ing beside him ; and both officers surveyed what 
appeared to be a fishing boat under sail. And 
yet it was not quite like a fishing boat. There 
was something wrong about it — and why should 
a fishing coble carry a gun? 

It was towards seven o'clock of a calm, hazy 
morning, February 12th, 1917. The Pinna, 
carrying nearly 8,000 tins of refined petroleum, 
was approaching the south-west coast. If the 
strange sail was a submarine, with luck and 
pluck the master might yet win port. 

The master ordered the helm to be put over 
to bring the suspicious sail astern. A gun 
spoke from the boat, and a shell struck the 
starboard bulwark abaft the forecastle. The 

236 



STICKING TO IT 237 

master, concluding that he had to deal with a 
submarine, ran to the aft steering-engine and 
took the wheel. 

A shell missed the bridge and hit the main- 
mast, and a splinter smashed the engine-room 
telegraph on the bridge, severing communica- 
tion with the engine-room. A shell struck the 
poop; another pierced the counter, went 
through a bulkhead and hit the engine stove. 

The master, keeping the submarine astern, 
perceived that she was overhauling him, and 
hitting the ship where she liked at short range. 
He stopped engines and ordered the boats away. 

While the men were embarking, the subma- 
rine, having ceased fire, slid up abeam on the 
port side. When the crew on the port side had 
pulled clear the submarine fired a torpedo, 
striking the Pinna against No. 2 tank, and the 
crew of the starboard boat, lying alongside the 
ship, received a disagreeable shock. The mas- 
ter, in the starboard boat, pulled round the stern 
and joined the port boat, while the Pinna slowly 
listed over to port. 

The submarine had disappeared, probably 
because she had observed the approach of a 
patrol boat. 

The captain of the patrol boat hailed the 
master of the Pinna, offering to pick up the 
crew. The master, although his ship had been 
under fire and torpedoed, was perfectly com- 
posed and vigilant. He told the captain of the 
patrol boat to leave himself and the crew in the 
boats, and suggested that the captain should 
steam swiftly round and round the Pinna, while 
the master tried to save her. 



238 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

Then the master called for volunteers. With 
him, on board the injured ship, went the chief, 
second and third engineers and a fireman, while 
the patrol boat circled round her. That man- 
oeuvre was some protection ; but it was far from 
complete; and the working party toiling down 
below in the engine-room risked being torpe- 
doed. 

They found enough steam still in the boiler 
to work the pumps, and began to pump out one 
of the tanks in order to lighten the ship and so 
get her on an even keel. After about three- 
quarters of an hour she was righted. 

The captain of the patrol boat arranged to 
take the Pinna in tow ; a hawser was carried on 
board by the people of the Pinna and made fast. 
In the meantime another patrol vessel had come 
along, and, concluding that all was now well, 
had gone away. 

The crew in the boats of the Pinna were get- 
ting on board, when the master suddenly per- 
ceived the periscope of the submarine. He 
shouted to the captain of the patrol boat to re- 
call by wireless the second patrol boat. But it 
was too late. A torpedo struck the ship where 
the first had struck her. 

But the master was undefeated. He stuck to 
it that the ship would not and should not sink. 
Nor did she. They worked away at the pumps ; 
more patrol boats came up ; the Pinna was taken 
in tow ; and that evening, at seven o 'clock, just 
twelve hours after she was torpedoed, she was 
safely beached. 

The Pinna was afterwards floated and re- 
paired. 



XXXV 

A Fishing Trip 

You know the steam trawler — the stout, 
broad-beamed craft with deck-house amidships, 
and one portly funnel, a large square hatch cov- 
ering the fish-hold, and a dinghy fixed aft. 

The grey-bearded master and his six or eight 
hands are seasoned, like their vessel, to all 
weathers; for they fish the North Sea, wet or 
fine, storm or calm, summer and winter, peace 
or war. 

At midnight of February 5th-6th, 1917, the 
steam trawler Adelaide was some thirty miles 
from a north-country port. The master was 
sleeping below, when he was roused out by a 
deck hand who told him that a submarine was 
firing at the Adelaide. (There used to be an im- 
pression that in an abstract theory, called inter- 
national law, fishing craft were outside warlike 
operations.) 

The master, going on deck, saw a long, grey 
shape lying on the water in the brilliant moon- 
light, a little way off on the starboard quarter. 
The master ordered the boat away. The sub- 

239 



240 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

marine fired two more shots while the men were 
lowering the boat. The boat pulled clear. The 
submarine drew alongside the boat, and the 
officer on the conning-tower peremptorily or- 
dered the people of the Adelaide on board. 

The German had no murderous design. He 
was merely in need of a few little things. He 
ordered two of the Adelaide's crew to return on 
board with three German sailors. The Germans 
carried with them the bombs without which they 
seldom travel. (No doubt in future vessels will 
be fitted with a rack to hold the bombs of visi- 
tors.) On board the Adelaide the Germans de- 
posited their explosives in the engine-room, 
ordered the British seamen to open the condens- 
ers, took all the spanners they could find, se- 
cured the stock of provisions, stole the flags, 
ignited the fuses of the bombs and sheered off. 

The submarine officer ordered the crew of the 
Adelaide into their boats. "They had just 
nicely got in," says the master, "when there 
were three loud explosions on the said ship (the 
Adelaide ).' ' The Germans gave to the master a 
loaf of bread (his own). One loaf among nine 
men, each of whom is accustomed to eat a loaf 
or two loaves at a meal, is small, sustenance for 
a thirty mile pull. 

Then the submarine went away. It was 
about a quarter to four. There is one thing 
your seaman never in any circumstances for- 
gets. He always notes the time. Torpedoed, 
under fire, sinking, in the water, as long as he is 
alive the seaman notes the time, G. M. T. And 
when he fetches up in Port of Heaven he will 



A FISHING TRIP 241 

know approximately at what hour and so many 
minutes his spirit quitted its mortal tenement. 

The master steered by the moon till the sun 
rose, and then he steered by the sun. The crew 
rowed for eight hours. 

The conning-tower of a submarine rose above 
the surface, and the crew of the Adelaide hung 
on their oars in a deadly suspense. But it was 
a British officer who emerged on the conning- 
tower, and a British voice which hailed them to 
come to breakfast. 

This was a lucky trip. The men of the Ade- 
laide lost ship and gear. Many of their mates 
have lost life and limb as well. 



XXXVI 

Twice Running 

The North Atlantic (that arena of disaster), 
a confused swell, noon of Tuesday, March 6th, 
1917. The steamship Fenay Lodge heading 
towards France, a ring of haze, about ten miles 
in diameter, closing her in. 

A torpedo struck her on the starboard side; 
the master ordered the crew into the boats, and 
away they went. They pulled for about half an 
hour, the water breaking over them, when, half- 
hidden in the mist, the submarine emerged into 
view and opened fire on the deserted ship. Pres- 
ently both ship and submarine were lost to sight. 

There were twenty-seven persons in the Fe- 
nay Lodge, all British except one Dutchman and 
one Eussian. In two boats they drifted head to 
sea in the bitter weather, the rest of that day, 
Tuesday, and all that night, and the morning of 
Wednesday. Then, towards noon, they sighted 
a steamship; pulled towards her, making sig- 
nals of distress, and were taken on board. She 
was a French ship, the Ohio, 

The castaways had scarce shifted into dry 
clothing and eaten and drunk, when the Ohio 

242 



TWICE RUNNING 243 

was struck by a torpedo. She went down in 
three minutes. No other details are available. 

Half an hour after the people of the Fenay 
Lodge had been picked up they were again 
adrift. But five of them had been drowned in 
the sinking of the Ohio. 

The three boats, containing the survivors of 
the Fenay Lodge and the Frenchmen, drifted 
head to sea in the bitter weather for the rest of 
the day. About six in the evening they sighted 
a steamer. She bore down upon them. She was 
a British ship, the Winnebago, and, stopping 
alongside the tossing boats, the master offered 
to take them on board. He was answered by so 
confused a shouting in French and English that 
at first he could make nothing of it. But pres- 
ently he understood that the men were warning 
him that there were three enemy submarines 
about, and that they refused to be taken on 
board. 

They were some two hundred miles from land, 
and they refused to be taken on board. The 
master of the Winnebago had done all he could ; 
if the castaways thought open boats preferable 
to a stout ship, it was their affair, and he went 
on. 

The men of the Fenay Lodge and the men of 
the Ohio drifted head to sea in the bitter 
weather all that Wednesday night, and all 
Thursday morning. At three o'clock in the 
afternoon a patrol boat ran up alongside and 
took on board twenty-two men of the Fenay 
Lodge and five officers and twenty-seven men 
of the French ship Ohio, 



xxxvn 

The Fight of the "Aracataca" 

The master, on the bridge of the Aracataca, 
did not hear the report of the first gun fired, 
but the gunner, standing by his gun aft, marked 
the splash of a projectile falling close by the 
rudder. Then the master heard a distant 
detonation. For one moment he could see noth- 
ing; the next, a shell dived into the sea on the 
port bow. Two or three shells struck the ship, 
and still there was no submarine in sight. The 
chief steward came running up to the bridge to 
report that a man whose hand had been blown 
off, had come to the saloon, and that several 
other men in the forecastle were dangerously 
wounded. 

The captain knew from the position of the 
arrival of the projectiles that the submarine 
was astern. Here was the event for which he 
had been diligently rehearsing officers and men. 

The two gunners aft received the signal to 
return the fire, as soon as the second shell came 
over, together with directions as to range, and 
they went steadily and swiftly to work. At the 
same time up went the red ensign. 

244 



THE FIGHT OF THE "ARACATACA" 245 

All the ship's officers, except the engineers, 
came to the bridge. The chief officer took the 
wheel. The other officers carried messages and 
acted as requisite. 

The section of the crew which had been 
trained for the purpose, went to their stations, 
and passed up ammunition. 

The wireless operator sent out warnings, but 
no distress signals, because the master "did 
not consider himself in distress.' ' Answers 
were immediately received. From one of his 
Majesty's ships came a reply saying that she 
would arrive in half an hour. The two vessels 
continued to talk to each other during the action. 

The gunners of the Aracataca exchanged shot 
for shot with the submarine. As each shell of 
the enemy came over the master noted the posi- 
tion of the splash, and altered course accord- 
ingly. 

The firing on both sides was rapid. Amid the 
regular reports of the guns, the smoke and crash 
of bursting shells, a rumour ran about the ship, 
that the ammunition locker had been blown up, 
and the cool and wary master observed signs of 
consternation among the crew. 

The master went below and spoke to the men, 
telling them that the Aracataca was gaining on 
the submarine and that help would arrive inside 
half an hour. The men turned to at once. Such 
is the value of leadership. 

Coming on deck, the master called together 
the deck hands, rallied them with a few hearty 
words, and asked them to take on any duty that 
might be required of them. The men responded 



246 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

with a will. Some of the seamen went below to 
do the work of those firemen and trimmers who 
had been injured. 

The gunners, one of whom was the carpenter, 
a volunteer, were sticking to their gun, and 
although the submarine manoeuvred to place 
herself dead in the rays of the sun, the Arar- 
cataca gunners made very good shooting, per- 
ceptibly bewildering the submarine. 

The action hotly continued, in a brisk breeze, 
a choppy and sunlit sea, the big ship swiftly 
manoeuvring, belching fire from her stern gun, 
beside which the carpenter stood exposed dur- 
ing the fight, the conning-tower of the subma- 
rine, astern of the steamship, gliding steadily 
onwards, now wreathed in smoke, now glitter- 
ing in the sun. 

And all the time the chief steward, below, was 
doing the grisly work of a surgeon. The wound- 
ed men were brought from the forecastle and 
laid on the table of the saloon. With his mates, 
the chief steward improvised dressings and 
tourniquets. When he had done he reported to 
the master, (1) that the cases were very serious, 
(2) that his stock of medical appliances was very 
limited, (3) that he had stopped all bleeding. 

One man, a fireman, lay dead in the forecastle. 
He had been killed instantaneously. His body 
was taken from the forecastle and laid in a place 
by itself. Thus all was done decently and in 
order. 

The action began at one o'clock. At some 
time during the first half -hour a shell pierced 
the funnel, entered the deck-house and burst in 



THE FIGHT OF THE "ARACATACA" 247 

the galley, and another shell sang between the 
master and the chief officer and smashed the 
fore part of the bridge on which they were 
standing, and, bursting, scattered shrapnel. 

But presently the fire of the enemy became 
less frequent and the shells went wide. The 
submarine was receiving better than she sent. 
At the end of three-quarters of an hour, the 
master, watching the fall of the shells from the 
Aracataca's gun, saw the conning-tower vanish 
in a smother of smoke and spray. When it 
blew away the submarine was lying motionless 
athwart her course, and her gun was silent. 
The Aracataca had beaten her. 

Four minutes later a British vessel of war 
hove in sight, and promptly steered to place 
herself between the submarine and the steam- 
ship. 

But the submarine was done. The Aracataca 
saw her no more, and came safely into port. 
The master reported that the crew behaved 
to the master's "entire satisfaction, ' ' and espe- 
cially commended the services of the chief stew- 
ard, who saved the lives of the wounded men, 
and whose amateur surgery was so good that 
the doctors who treated the men in port affirmed 
that it was as well done ' ' as any man could do 
it." The master also especially commended the 
two gunners, of whom one was the carpenter, 
"the latter taking a prominent position at the 
gun throughout the whole action in a most ex- 
posed position, being entirely voluntary." 

As for the master himself, his skilled organic 
sation, composure, resource and courage won 



248 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

him one of the most notable fights of the British 
merchant service. It was fought on March 
10th, 1917. 

The German beast of prey was outfought and 
outmanoeuvred from the beginning, although he 
struck first and murderously. The master of 
the Aracataca had defeated the submarine ere 
the ship of war arrived. 



XXXVIII 

The Blackguard 

The events of March 27th, 1917, are, like the 
night that covered them, darkly clear, with here 
and there significant and daunting glimpses 
opening between great spaces of blackness and 
again obscured. And those glimpses are the 
reflection of a reflection in the mind's mirror 
of two men. 

One was the gunner of the steamship Thracia, 
a private of the Boyal Marines. The time was 
between eight and nine o'clock at night; the 
ship was in the Channel, bound to a home port ; 
the gunner was on duty, stationed at his gun on 
the poop. He heard a sharp detonation, which 
(he said) sounded like the crack of a pistol fired 
somewhere forward. A column of water min- 
gled with black smoke shot up forward of the 
bridge to starboard. Four short blasts sounded 
on the syren, signifying " Abandon ship." The 
gunner ran forward, mingling with a crowd of 
hurrying figures in the dark, felt the ship sink- 
ing downwards towards the bows beneath his 
feet as he ran, and understood that she would 
go down ere the boats could be lowered. He 
turned and ran back to the gun to fetch his life- 
belt, slung it on, climbed on the rail to dive, 
"and before he knew exactly what had hap- 

249 



250 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

pened he found himself in the sea." Events, 
as they do on these occasions, succeeded one 
another more swiftly than consciousness could 
register. 

The gunner was drawn deep down in the icy 
water, came up again, and struck out, shouting 
for help with all his strength. He swam and 
shouted during what, with a seaman's particu- 
larity, he estimated to be a period of twenty 
minutes, rising and falling with the lop of sea, 
fighting for his life, and then there came an- 
swering calls, a boat loomed above him, and 
he was hauled on board. She had been lowered 
from a neutral steamer, which afterwards 
landed the sturdy Marine at an English port. 
He thought at first he was the sole survivor of 
the Thracia. 

When the gunner on deck heard a detonation 
like the report of a pistol, the acting fourth 
officer, a boy of fifteen, who was just getting 
into his bunk below, felt a shock as of "a small 
explosion about the main bunker." As he ran 
up on deck in his shirt, the syren blew the sig- 
nal " Abandon ship." The next thing the boy 
knew, he was being drawn down with the sink- 
ing vessel. 

Struggling to the surface, he saw a capsized 
boat, swam to it, and found it was part of the 
starboard lifeboat, of which the stern had been 
blown off. The fourth officer climbed in the 
boat and lashed himself to it. Other men swam 
to the boat and hung on. The fourth officer 
counted seven. He made out that two among 
them were badly hurt. The other men could 



THE BLACKGUARD 251 

give them no help, and the two wounded men 
were washed away and drowned. The rest hung 
on for a while. Then the black hulk of a steamer 
loomed about a mile distant, and three of the 
men resolved to swim to her. They dropped off 
and started. Five minutes afterwards the 
steamer vanished. The three men were never 
seen again. 

At this point, the fourth officer, drenched by 
the sea and stabbed by the sword of the frozen 
wind, became partially unconscious. When he 
revived a little the two remaining men of the 
seven were gone. 

What woke the lad to some perception was 
the sound of a voice, calling in English. He 
saw a long, dark shape heaving to leeward, and 
understood that it was a German submarine, 
and that a German officer was asking him ques- 
tions. 

The German asked what ship he had sunk, 
whence she came, whither she was bounfl, and 
what was her cargo. The fourth officer gave 
the information. 

"Are you an Englishman ?" asked the Ger- 
man officer. 

The boy replied that he was. 

"Then," said the German, "I shall shoot 
you." 

"Shoot away," said the fourth officer. 

So disrespectful an answer naturally hurt the 
sensitive German. 

"I shall not waste powder on a pig of an 
Englishman," was the German officer's majes- 
tic retort. 



252 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

At this point, the German seems to have per- 
mitted a just indignation to overcome his nat- 
ural delicacy of feeling. 

" Drown, you swine, drown !" he shouted, 
and sheered off. 

The officer of his Imperial Majesty's Navy in 
command of the submarine left the child adrift 
on his bit of wreckage. There the boy drifted, 
lashed, helpless and to all appearance dead, all 
that night. The sun rose on that spectacle in 
the bitter March morning, and still the boy 
tossed and tumbled in the breaking sea. 

There, at half -past ten (the fourth officer of 
course marks the time, though he was very 
nearly dead), a fishing boat espied the casta- 
way, bore down and took him on board. He 
had been more than thirteen hours in the water. 

Of thirty-eight persons, these two were saved : 
the gunner and the acting fourth officer, aged 
fifteen and a half years. 

The sea, as we know, is blind and pitiless ; but 
the sea spared the lad who defied the German. 
If that chivalrous officer still defiles the sea, or 
befouls the land, he may reflect that he was 
silly to give way to temper, after all; because 
if there was one thing which would make that 
boy resolve to live, it was the German's order 
that he should drown. The German officer 
should have shot the fourth officer, as the child 
suggested, instead of being piqued and haugh- 
tily refusing that simple request. He seems to 
have lacked a sense of humour. "We are a 
serious nation/ ' a German naval officer once 
said to the present writer. 



Settling the Score 

When the master of the Palm Branch had 
his first dispute with the enemy, his ship was 
an unarmed target, and so he must trust to his 
skill in retreat. In the second affair it was not 
so. 

On November 21st, 1916, in grey autumn 
weather, the Palm Branch was off the coast of 
France. At a little before two o'clock in the 
afternoon, the master, who was on the bridge, 
saw the conning-tower of a submarine rise out 
of the sea within forty yards of his port quarter. 
As soon as the submarine was awash, men 
swiftly put together a gun aft of the conning- 
tower. 

It was an emergency for which the master had 
been looking for two years. While the Germans 
were fitting the gun, the master of the Palm 
Branch put his helm over to get the submarine 
right astern, and ordered full speed ahead. 
The chief engineer himself went down to tjie 
stokehold to encourage the firemen during the 
trouble. 

It began five minutes after the submarine 
had emerged. She opened fire. The first few 

253 



254 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

shells missed the ship. Then they began to hit 
her. The submarine, manoeuvring to get a 
broadside aim, was continually defeated in her 
design by the master of the Palm Branch, who 
swung his ship to keep the enemy astern. The 
submarine continued to fire with explosive and 
shrapnel shells. 

The rest of the officers were each at the in- 
stant disposal of the master. Beside him the 
apprentice was at the wheel. 

Under that steady fire at short range the stern 
of the ship was damaged, and the quarters of 
the crew aft were knocked to pieces; the port 
lifeboat was shot away; the starboard lifeboat 
had a hole through it. The bridge was hit and a 
seaman was wounded. At the same time the 
apprentice was struck on the head by a splinter. 
He stuck to the wheel, blood running down his 
face. 

Shells entered the forecastle, wrecked the 
men's bunks, and a fire broke out. The chief 
officer instantly called a working party to ex- 
tinguish the fire, and checked the alarm of the 
deck hands, who heartily responded to his ap- 
peal. 

After half an hour of this work, the subma- 
rine, which had been kept right astern of the 
Palm Branch, and which did not pursue her, 
ceased fire and went away to attack a fleet of 
fishing boats, easier game. 

Thus did the master save a valuable ship for 
his King and country. The Palm Branch ran 
into a French port to repair damages. 

Thence she proceeded upon her voyage ; and 



SETTLING THE SCORE 255 

upon her arrival in an American port, aroused 
some little excitement in America, because here 
was a ship which had been under fire and which 
had escaped. 

The master of the Palm Branch continued 
upon his lawful occasions, and a paternal Gov- 
ernment gave him a gun to play with. 

Some five months after his encounter with 
the German, the master of the Palm Branch 
brought her into the White Sea, The afternoon 
of May 4th, 1917, fell fine, with a light breeze 
and a smooth sea, At a little before four 
o'clock, the master on the bridge saw the peri- 
scope of a submarine rise above the glassy sur- 
face about a quarter of a mile from the ship, 
on the port beam. 

The gunner, stationed aft at his gun, saw the 
track of a torpedo whitening towards the ship. 
The torpedo passed astern of the Palm Branch, 
missing her by about eight feet. 

At the same time the conning-tower of the 
submarine began to rise, and the gunner of the 
Palm Branch fired. The shell struck the con- 
ning-tower. The gunner's second shot pierced 
the hull of the submarine, which sank. 

As she sank, a shell fired at long range came 
over the Palm Branch. It came from a second 
submarine. The master ordered full speed and 
steered a zig-zag course, while the two gunners 
kept a steady fire upon the submarine. 

All the crew were at their stations; the offi- 
cers were at the disposal of the master ; his or- 
ganisation worked perfectly. So accurate was 
the shooting of the Palm Branch that the sub- 



256 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

marine dropped further astern, lengthening the 
range from 4,000 to 7,500 yards. She was firing 
continuously from two guns. 

Bewildered and hampered by the fire of the 
Palm Branch, the submarine fired about eighty 
rounds in the space of something under an hour ; 
she did not touch the Palm Branch once. 

Presently the gunner of the Palm Branch 
placed a shell on the after gun of the submarine, 
knocking it to pieces. Then some British trawl- 
ers appeared, steaming at full speed and con- 
verging on the submarine. The submarine 
ceased fire. She was done, fairly beaten by gun 
fire ; and the last the Palm Branch saw of her, 
she was lying like a log on the water. So the 
master of the Palm Branch was quits with the 
enemy. 

The Admiralty stated that they considered 
his achievement due to the excellent discipline 
and preparation for defence which he habit- 
ually maintained in the Palm Branch. 



XL 

The Raft 

The story of the Serapis is a short story, be- 
cause, like many another of these cruel records, 
it includes spaces of time concerning whose 
events no more than a suggestion is practicable. 
Men who for days and nights have been burning 
and freezing in open boats, sick with hunger 
and tormented by thirst, seldom describe their 
sensations. They happily forget them, or they 
are brought to so low a level of consciousness 
that all is merged in dull suffering ; or, for the 
sake of their own peace of mind, they refuse to 
peer into, the glass of memory. . . . 

The Serapis had brought the crew of a tor- 
pedoed ship into port, so that when she sailed 
again every man on board owned a vivid notion 
of what might happen to himself. But it did 
not occur to anyone to desert on that account. 

The Serapis was one day out. At about six 
o'clock on Tuesday, June 26th, 1917, when she 
was midmost of the Irish Sea, a torpedo struck 
her on the starboard side and exploded between 
the engine-room and the hold. Instantly she 
heeled over on her beam ends, and the men 

257 



258 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

who had rushed to get away the port lifeboat 
were flung into the water. Then the Serapis 
sank bodily. A minute elapsed between the ex- 
plosion of the torpedo and the total disappear- 
ance of the ship. 

The long swell was strewn with swimming 
men and wreckage, men clinging to planks and 
pieces of the ship, men drowning, broken frag- 
ments which had been men, and men dead. 

Then uprose from the depths the German 
submarine, and her commanding officer sur- 
veyed his work from the conning-tower, and 
found it to his mind. He hailed the drowning 
men, demanding the captain and the chief offi- 
cer ; and when these had replied, he brought the 
submarine alongside the captain and ordered 
his men to haul him on board. He sent the 
captain below, picked up the chief officer, and 
sent him below also. 

Then the German officer went away and left 
all the rest of the people of the Serapis to 
drown. 

A steamer was visible on the horizon, and the 
submarine steered towards her. 

The second officer beheld all these things, and 
perceived that the command now devolved upon 
himself. He set about to save life. Swimming 
on his plank, he collected more pieces of wreck- 
age, and with pieces of rigging made shift to 
bind them together into a raft. Four men be- 
sides himself huddled on the raft. A little way 
off three men were sitting on another assem- 
blage of wreckwood, and the two rafts drifted 
slowly away in company. They left a few of 



THE RAFT 259 

the crew clinging to spar and locker. The rest 
had gone down. 

All that night the second officer and the four 
men drifted on the swell. Here is one of those 
spaces of time of which the record is a sinister 
blank. Let who will imagine the plight of men 
insecurely riding a bulk of sodden timber in 
mid-sea, continually beaten upon by the break- 
ing water, through the infinitely long hours of 
the night. 

When the sun rose its first rays gleamed upon 
the second officer's raft, alone. 

The raft capsized, throwing the five casta- 
ways into the water. Paralysed by the cold of 
the night, three men sank and were drowned. 
The second officer and one man climbed des- 
perately back upon the raft. 

As the sun rose higher the seaman began to 
babble and to shout, his voice continuing amid 
the vast silence of the sea in the high monotone 
of the delirious. By degrees he fell to moaning. 
Presently he was silent. The second officer was 
now alone with the dead man. 

And here is another blank space of time. 

Whether or not the second officer perceived 
the submarine approaching him he does not re- 
cord. All he says is that at three o 'clock in the 
afternoon he was picked up by a British sub- 
marine. 



XLI 

The Flying Death 

On May 20th, 1917, a thick haze covered the 
waters off the East Coast, and a steamship lay 
at anchor waiting for light. At a little after 
one the fog lifted, and hung like a filmy roof 
over the sea. The master of the Birchgrove 
weighed anchor and went on his way. 

He heard the drone of aircraft engines; and 
presently sighted two aeroplanes flying fast 
and low, sweeping ont of the haze directly 
towards his ship. 

The next moment there came the chatter of 
machine-guns, and bullets spattered about the 
bridge. The master saw a strange dark object 
flying downwards, and an aerial torpedo 
plunged into the sea alongside and dived under 
the ship without touching her. The master put 
the helm over, and so swiftly altered course. 
He was just in time, for a second torpedo, fired 
at 200 yards, passed within ten feet of the stern. 

The master marked the black crosses painted 
on the underside of the planes, ran up the red 
ensign, ordered the crew below, ordered the 
gun's crew to open fire. The two seaplanes had 

260 



THE FLYING DEATH 261 

continued machine-gun fire from the first shot, 
and the bullets continued to whistle all about 
the bridge. 

The pilot remained on the bridge with the 
master, the two gunners served their gun 
astern. No one else was on deck. Below, the 
firemen were shovelling coal for their lives. 

The master, staring upwards, saw the great 
birds gliding above, each ridden by a hooded 
figure, each spurting flame. 

The gunner of the Birchgrove, cool and un- 
hurried, trained his gun with care. At his first 
shot the two seaplanes turned about, and ris- 
ing, steered eastward, whence they had come. 
The gunner of the Birchgrove fired again and 
again, his third shot either hitting the enemy 
or going just over him. Another shot, and the 
two seaplanes were out of sight, and in a little 
while the drone of their flight died away. 

The discipline and organisation of the master 
and the steady marksmanship of the gunners 
saved the Birchgrove. They also saved three 
defenceless foreign vessels which were steam- 
ing within range of the seaplanes. 



XLII 

Brethren of the Shark 

Very early on Sunday morning, July 15th, 
1917, the steamship Mariston, homeward bound 
in the North Atlantic, was within about a hun- 
dred miles of land. The evidence of the man- 
ner of her loss and the sequel is the deposition 
of the only survivor, who was the cook. 

When the torpedo struck the ship the cook 
was asleep in his bunk, in the house on the main 
deck. He was awakened by being hurled up- 
wards against the ceiling, with the crash of an 
explosion in his ears. The mess-room steward, 
who was asleep in the bunk below the cook, con- 
tinued to slumber, nor did he wake when the 
cook shook him. Already the water was surg- 
ing about the cook's ankles, and dripping 
through the seams of the deck above; and the 
cook ran out upon the main deck, which was 
awash. He seems to remember seeing the ap- 
prentice following him as he doubled to the 
midship cabin to rouse the steward. He never 
reached the steward, because a second explo- 
sion, catching him on the way, blew the midship 

Amid the tumult, the black smoke and the 
cabin to pieces. 

262 



BRETHREN OF THE SHARK 263 

pieces of the ship falling about his ears, the 
cook, as he ran aft, was aware of the chief gun- 
ner. The ship was sinking rapidly; the main 
deck was level with the breaking sea, and the 
cook caught up a hatch and plunged overboard, 
followed by the chief gunner. Both men clung 
to the hatch; the ship went down bodily, stern 
first; and there came a mighty rush of water. 
When it had passed the cook was alone on his 
hatch. He never saw the gunner again. 

In the colourless light of an overcast sunrise 
the cook beheld the long, confused rollers 
strewn with wreckage, and counted seventeen 
men clinging to the pieces of the ship. 

Then up from the troubled waters projected 
two periscopes, like two horns, then the two 
conning-towers of the submarine, and then her 
long hull, shiny and black as coal, hove dripping 
upon the swell. To the cook she loomed as 
great as the five-thousand-ton ship she had just 
sent to the bottom. All along her side, revealed 
in curves of the moving sea, waved festoons of 
green weed and slimy barnacles. She carried 
a gun forward and a gun aft. 

The hatch on the conning-tower lifted, and 
there emerged a German officer. The men in 
the water were crying and shouting for help. 
The German officer surveyed the field of de- 
struction through his glasses. Presently he 
dropped them, leisurely disappeared down the 
hatch, which shut, and the submarine began to 
sink. She settled steadily down, amid the cries 
of rage of the drowning men, until the peri- 
scopes alone were visible. Then they glided 



264 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

away, cutting through the seas, each square, 
hooded pole flirting a feather of foam. . . . 

The cook, tossing on his little raft, kept 
counting the men in sight; and every time he 
counted he made the total less. Then he heard 
a man scream, and saw him throw up his hands ; 
and he saw the black fin of a shark cleaving the 
lop of sea, and the flash of white as the great 
fish turned over to snatch its prey. The cook 
saw (he says) "a crowd of sharks," and heard 
man after man screaming as he was dragged 
under. 

That is all he says. It is perhaps adequate. 
A theory may here be hazarded that the sharks 
follow the submarines. . . . They could make 
their profit of the voyage. 

As the sun rose, the wind and the sea went 
down on that desolation; and still the cook 
tossed on his hatch, until he was the last alive. 
He thinks it was about ten o'clock when he 
found himself utterly alone, except for the 
sharks. By that time he had been some six 
hours in the water. 

At about five o'clock that evening, the mas- 
ter of a British steamship sighted a space of sea 
dotted all over with drifting wreckage. He 
steered towards it, and passed through a field 
of floating timbers and fittings and packing- 
cases; and on its further fringe he espied the 
figure of a man floating on a hatch. 

It was half -past six when the cook was hauled 
into the steamer's boat and brought aboard, and 
revived and comforted. So he lived to tell his 
tale, alone of all the people in the Mansion. 



xLin 

The Case op the "Belgian Prince" 

Forty-three seamen of the steamship Bel- 
gian Prince were crowded on the deck of a Ger- 
man submarine, in the steely twilight of a sum- 
mer night, and one, the master, was below, a 
prisoner. The submarine was running awash. 
Astern, the abandoned ship loomed momently 
more dim. In the minds of every one of those 
forty-three seamen there dwelt a terrible ap- 
prehension. 

The attack on the Belgian Prince followed the 
usual routine. She was struck, without warn- 
ing, by a torpedo. It was then about eight 
o'clock on the evening of July 31st, 1917, and 
the ship was two hundred miles from the north 
coast of Ireland. The master called away the 
boats, and the crew embarked, leaving the mas- 
ter on board to clear up his affairs. The port 
lifeboat put back and took him off. The Ger- 
man submarine emerged and opened fire from 
her machine-gun upon the ship 's aerials, which 
she destroyed. Then the commanding officer 
of the submarine ordered the two boats along- 
side, took the master on board, and sent him 

265 



266 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

below, ordering all the crew on board. They 
were received with furious abuse by the Ger- 
mans, who searched their captives, taking from 
them all their possessions. Money and other 
articles of value the pirates pocketed; other 
things they hove overboard. In the meantime 
a working party took everything out of the 
boats. The compasses and provisions were put 
into the submarine. Oars, gratings, bailers and 
all loose gear were thrown overboard. The two 
lifeboats were damaged by axes. The plugs 
were removed, and they were left to sink. The 
master's dinghy was retained. Several Ger- 
mans pulled her over to the ship, in which they 
remained. 

These things the crew of the Belgian Prince 
beheld, contemplating, while they were being 
violently robbed, the destruction of their last 
hope of escape. 

The commanding officer of the submarine, a 
fair, bearded man of thirty-five or so, ordered 
the seamen to take off their lifebelts and place 
them on the deck. Then he strode along the 
deck, among the men, whom he cursed, kicking 
the lifebelts overboard. But four men at least 
contrived to hide their lifebelts under their 
coats. 

From the Belgian Prince, in which were the 
Germans who had gone to her in the dinghy, a 
signal flashed. The submarine got under way; 
the captives, as already described, were crowded 
on her deck, as her engines slowly ground her 
through the water. So, for about half an hour. 

Then there came another signal flashed from 



CASE OF THE "BELGIAN PRINCE" 267 

the place where the ship lay shrouded in the 
thickening dark. Instantly the German officer 
on the conning-tower disappeared, and the steel 
hatch clanged to over his head. 

The submarine began to sink. 

The doubt haunting the forty-three seamen 
suddenly took shape in a certainty, the cer- 
tainty of death. The water lipped upon the 
deck, the water covered their feet. Then they 
leaped into the sea. 

The chief engineer, the cook, a Russian sea- 
man and the little apprentice, who had con- 
trived to keep their lifebelts, struck out for the 
distant ship. The little apprentice held on to 
the chief engineer. The cook and the Russian 
were separated from the chief engineer and the 
apprentice, and from each other, though all 
were steering for where they thought the ship 
lay. The thirty-nine men they left were never 
seen again. 

The chief engineer, holding up the apprentice, 
swam steadily on, resting at intervals. The 
boy grew heavier and heavier, his strokes 
weaker and weaker, and by the time the grey 
dawn lightened the desolate sea, he was uncon- 
scious. The ice-cold water killed him. The 
chief engineer went on alone. 

He saw the Belgian Prince, listing over to 
port, when, as he reckoned, he was still a mile 
and a half away from her. It was then about 
half-past five on the morning of August 1st, 
1917. The chief engineer saw a bright flame 
leap from the after part of the ship, saw her 
go down stern first. 



268 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

The chief engineer, who makes no remark 
concerning his emotions at that moment, con- 
tinued to swim ; and presently he saw smoke on 
the horizon, and swam desperately towards it. 
A little after, he was picked up by a patrol boat. 

The cook, following his own course, also came 
in sight of the Belgian Prince about the same 
time as the chief engineer sighted her. He also 
saw the ship sink; and then he perceived the 
submarine, and swam away. He was picked 
up by the patrol boat. 

The Russian seaman swam faster than the 
other two men, and actually reached the Bel- 
gian Prince at about five o'clock, after about 
eight hours in the water. For the moment, at 
least, he was saved; but he was still haunted 
by a doubt. Numbed and exhausted, he strug- 
gled on board, shifted into dry clothing, and 
ate and drank. And then he saw the subma- 
rine again. She was coming alongside. 

The Russian ran aft, and hiding himself, 
watched the submarine stop and lie alongside, 
saw three or four Germans climb on board. 
There was nothing else for it — the Russian low- 
ered himself into the water again, and hung on 
beside the rudder. For all he knew the Ger- 
mans might be about sinking the ship. 

But for the moment they were looting her, 
passing stores, clothing and provisions into the 
submarine. The Russian watched them for 
about twenty minutes. Then the submarine 
stood off and fired two shells into the ship. She 
broke in two and sank. The submarine dived 
and so departed. 



CASE OF THE "BELGIAN PRINCE" 269 

The Eussian, fighting for his life in the swirl 
of water and driving wreckage, saw the mas- 
ter's dinghy, which had been left adrift by the 
submarine. He swam to it, climbed in, and lay 
there until the patrol boat picked him up. 

There were forty-four people in the Belgian 
Prince. The crew numbered forty-two, includ- 
ing the master, and there were two negro stow- 
aways. The master was taken prisoner; three 
were saved because they outwitted the German 
murderers; forty were drowned. Deprived of 
their boats, robbed of their possessions, 
stripped of their lifebelts, they were mustered 
on board the German submarine and drawn 
down to certain death. 

Then the commanding officer of the subma- 
rine having, as he thought, slain all witnesses of 
his crimes, returned to plunder his prey, the de- 
serted ship. He did not know the sturdy Eus- 
sian seaman was watching him from behind the 
rudder. Or that two more witnesses were 
within gunshot. 

Whether he knew it or not, that submarine 
officer achieved the lowest deep of iniquity un- 
til then touched even by Germans on the sea. 
There may, of course, be worse to come; the 
civilised nations are hardly competent to esti- 
mate the possibilities; but, even now, the Ger- 
mans at sea have done that which shall not be 
forgotten till the sea runs dry. 



XLIV 

Expectation and Event 

To voyage at night in submarine-haunted 
waters is to snatch every minute from fate. 
For the submarine at night approaches unseen, 
delivers the blow in the dark, and vanishes un- 
seen. Therefore to all on board the venturing 
ship the thing may happen at any moment ; also 
it may not; and so they live from moment to 
moment; watching the grains slip through the 
hour-glass and wondering when the invisible 
hand will turn the glass upside down. Such, in 
fact, is the state of suspense of their under con- 
sciousness. But their active intelligence is em- 
ployed about the work of the ship, which is in- 
cessant, and which brings fatigue which brings 
sleep. 

There are, of course, the forces which man 
always marshals against the unknown. There 
is fatalism, the theory that no man dies before 
his time, and that when his time comes, die he 
will. And what is perhaps more common, the 
old defiant stoicism of the seaman. But under- 
neath is always the cruel suspense. It is mas- 
tered, but it is there. 

The lookout man on the forecastle and aloft 
in the crow's-nest; the helmsman, spinning his 

270 



EXPECTATION AND EVENT 271 

wheel, his eyes on the compass-dial ; the officers 
on the bridge, scanning the field of water, peer- 
ing into the dark, and aware of the whole liv- 
ing organism of the ship beating like a heart be- 
neath their feet; the men in the engine-room, 
tending the smooth, swift and obedient ma- 
chinery; the men in the stokehold, amid the 
steady roar of the furnaces, heaving coal into 
the flaming caverns ; the deck hands, each man 
silent at his post; the gunners, standing by 
their gun aft; each and all know their hazard. 

But of all men on board the master wars with 
the most formidable adversary, for all depend 
on him. He dare not relax for a moment. 
Should the crash come, it is the master who 
must give the instant orders, and the slightest 
hesitation or the least mistake will lose the lives 
of men. He has rehearsed in his mind every 
contingency over and over again ; he has trained 
and practised crew and passengers ; there is no 
more to be done than to wait. And in waiting, 
he cannot afford to sleep; and yet he cannot 
afford not to sleep. Many a master is six days 
and nights on the bridge with intervals of an 
hour or two hours. 

If his ship carries troops, the master knows 
at least that in case of emergency he can rely 
upon their conduct. He also knows, if that is 
any solace to him, that once on board a ship, a 
soldier divests himself of care. Once he crosses 
the rail, the seaman takes charge of him. His 
mind is at ease. Whatever happens, he is not 
responsible. He has but to obey orders. 

So, on the night of 2nd-3rd June, 1917, the 



272 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

troops sailing in the steamship Cameronian 
went to their hammocks with much of the com- 
posure of the Government mules stalled on the 
decks beneath, which they had just fed and 
watered and tucked up for the night. But the 
mules did not know that for them there was no 
chance of escape. 

The soldiers went to sleep, and the seamen 
watched. Some forty soldiers passed from 
sleep to death in a flood of water filling the 
troop-deck in an instant. The torpedo struck 
the ship at half -past three in the morning. 

When a vessel is prepared, the chance of sav- 
ing life varies according to the time she takes 
to sink. Therefore the master arranges his or- 
ganisation to work in the shortest period in 
which all (or nearly all) can be saved, which is 
about five minutes. The Cameronicm sank in 
live minutes. 

The first difficulty is to stop the ship so that 
the boats may be the more safely lowered. The 
momentum of a vessel of some 6,000 tons can- 
not be checked in a moment. The master of the 
Cameronicm stopped the engines instantly, but 
as the ship began rapidly to sink by the stern, 
the boats must be manned immediately. The 
crew ran to their boat stations, while the bugles 
called and the soldiers, those who escaped from 
the inundation below, came tumbling up, to fall 
in under the officers ' orders with the precision 
of parade. The ship was still sliding forward, 
the decks tilting up from the stern to the bows. 
The five boats were orderly filled and three 
were lowered to the calm sea. But ere the two 



EXPECTATION AND EVENT 273 

remaining boats touched the water, the ship 
went down, capsizing the boats. As she sank, 
the men leaped from the boats into the water. 

The exact sequence of events is here obscure, 
but from the little evidence available, it is clear 
that the men in the other three boats, coming 
to the rescue of the men in the water, discovered 
that there were men pinned down beneath the 
capsized boats. Before these heavy sea-boats 
could be righted the men beneath them would 
drown. The rescuers, with admirable resource, 
promptly smashed in the planks of the capsized 
boats, presumably using the looms of their oars, 
and hauled three men through the aperture. 
Many a man has been trapped beneath a cap- 
sized boat; it must be seldom, indeed, that a 
way of escape has been suddenly burst through 
the bottom of the boat. 

The people of the Cameronicm, in the dawn of 
a summer morning, were now adrift upon the 
Mediterranean, some fifty miles from Malta. 
The expected had happened ; the suspense was 
over; the sands in the hour-glass were again 
trickling steadily. It was fair weather and 
there was no immediate apprehension. But the 
master of the Cameronicm, to whose vigilance 
and foresight the survivors owed their lives, 
was drowned ; and drowned were the chief engi- 
neer, eight men, and the two gunners of the 
Cameronicm, together with the soldiers who had 
been asleep on the troop deck; eighty-three in 
all. 

The boats were picked up by his Majesty's 
ships and all on board were safely landed. 



XLV 

Quick Eye and Ready Hand 

On May 9th, 1917, the steamship Malda was 
in the North Sea. It was one of those grey 
spring days, when the smooth sea and the still 
sky are suffused with an uniform light. The 
master, the chief officer, the second officer, who 
was on watch, and the pilot were on the bridge ; 
men were posted to look out in the crow's-nest 
on the foremast, on the top of the chart house, 
on the upper bridge, and beside the gun aft. 

Among these was a cadet, and he alone 
sighted the track of a torpedo ruffling the water 
about three points abaft the port beam and 
travelling directly towards the ship. The cadet 
hailed the officer of the watch, who on the word 
put the helm hard a-port, at the same instant 
ringing the engine-room telegraph to full speed. 

Then all the watchers, eagerly staring, saw 
the torpedo glimmer past the ship close under 
the stern. 

The ship was saved. 

The master sent out wireless messages, in 
reply to which an escort was sent, and the next 
day the Malda arrived in port. 

274 



XLVI 

Panic 

When the torpedo struck the steamship 
Locksley Hall, she was between thirty and forty 
miles from Malta, steaming at abont nine knots. 
The second officer, who was on watch, sighted 
the track of a torpedo abont 500 yards away 
from the ship on the starboard side. He put 
the helm over instantly; but it was at an un- 
lucky moment; for the vessel was changing 
from one zig-zag course to another, and ere she 
could fully answer the alteration in the helm, 
the torpedo exploded in the engine-room. 

The fourth engineer and five of the engine- 
room crew were killed; the engines were shat- 
tered; the after deck was flooded and a huge 
column of water mixed with wreckage rose high 
into the air, the starboard lifeboat being lifted 
some fifty feet. 

There were fifty-one natives in the crew of 
sixty-two. Instantly after the explosion a mob 
of natives swarmed upon deck and into the 
boats, without stopping to pick up lifebelts. 
The master and the officers ordered them out 
of the boats, and they refused to budge. As 

275 



276 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

the way was slowing-off the vessel, the master 
and the officers themselves lowered the boats, 
crammed with the dark men, the whites of whose 
eyes showed like the eyes of terrified animals. 

The master, cool and composed, sent the sec- 
ond engineer, the third officer and the chief gun- 
ner one after the other to see that all had come 
up from the engine-room ; and, having satisfied 
himself on that point, ordered all remaining on 
board into the boats. 

He stayed on board, as he thought, alone. 
Having attended to the destruction of his con- 
fidential papers and to other details, the master 
found that in the wreck and confusion some of 
the native crew had taken refuge in the port 
dinghy, which was still hanging to the davits. 
The chief steward was faithfully standing by 
the boat. The master ordered him into it, and 
after some persuasion, induced one of the na- 
tives to leave the boat and to take one of the 
falls. The master took the other, when the de- 
bilitated native let go. Those in the boat cut 
the falls just in time to prevent her from cap- 
sizing. 

The master, the last to leave the ship, got 
into the dinghy. By that time the after deck 
of the sinking vessel was nearly level with the 
water. 

The master pulled across to the other two 
boats, and gave to them certain instructions. 

It was then about a quarter past one, half 
an hour since the ship had been torpedoed. A 
few minutes later the submarine leisurely 
emerged about half a mile away, and fired five 



PANIC 277 

rounds into the Locksley Hall. The submarine 
then drew near to the boats, and her command- 
ing officer demanded the person of the master. 
But being unable to discover him, the German 
requested the usual information concerning ship 
and cargo, and then diverted himself by taking 
photographs of his victims. When he had quite 
finished, he drew away towards the Locksley 
Hall, fired four more shots into her, and then 
departed. 

The boats remained where they were, the 
crew watching their ship settling down. Pres- 
ently she thrust her bows perpendicularly into 
the air and so sank. 

The boats were picked up next day. 



XLVII 

Nine Steadfast Men 

In the steamship City of Corinth every officer 
and man on deck was keeping a look-out. She 
had come all the way from Japan, and now, at 
a little after five o'clock on the afternoon of 
May 21st, 1917, the ship was off the Lizard, in 
sight of home. 

The haze of a spring twilight hung in the 
windless air, so that the ship, steaming at thir- 
teen knots, moved in a clear circle of about six 
miles ' diameter, across a smooth sea ; and if the 
lines of vision were palpable, they would be 
seen radiating like the spokes of a wheel from 
the eyes of the gazing men on deck, incessantly 
travelling upon the shining field of sea. But 
nothing married its silken levels. 

The chief officer on the bridge felt a shock and 
heard a thud. The blow so long pending had 
been struck. The master, who was at the foot 
of the ladder, sprang up it to the bridge and 
rang full speed astern, to take off the way of 
the ship. Then he ordered the wireless oper- 
ator to send out a message giving the ship's 
position. 

278 



NINE STEADFAST MEN 279 

At the same moment the chief engineer below 
saw the water pouring from the tunnel, the long 
steel passage in which the propeller shaft re- 
volves. He turned on the men to force the tun- 
nel door shut and to get the pumps going. The 
third engineer went to the gun mounted aft. 

The ship listed to port, settled down a little 
aft, and then hung where she was. 

But while the officers and the white men 
among the crew were swiftly doing their duty, 
the Lascars and Chinese scrambled headlong 
into the boats and lowered them. Within two 
or three minutes of the explosion one boat got 
away. The chief officer, standing by the rail, 
shouting his orders (with what emphasis may 
be imagined) induced the men in the other three 
boats to hold on alongside. 

The second and third engineers, who were 
both sick men, were lowered into the boats. 

The master, at his post on the bridge, swiftly 
surveyed the situation, and decided, in spite of 
the desertion of the native and Chinese crew, 
to try to make the land. For aught he knew, 
there was no one left in the engine-room. He 
rang the telegraph, and receiving an instant re- 
ply from the chief engineer, ordered full speed 
ahead, and steered for the land inside the Liz- 
ard. With a powerful head of steam the ship 
began to move ; and at the same time the wire- 
less operator received messages saying that 
help was on its way. 

The third engineer, having left the gun and 
gone below to fetch some clothes, found the 
water flooding the engine-room, and was dis- 



280 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

patched by the chief engineer to report the po- 
sition to the master. 

Baffled in his seamanlike attempt to make the 
shore, the master rang down to the engine-room, 
stop, then, finished with engines, and sent the 
second officer to make snre that all below came 
on deck. 

The chief engineer was instrncted to get into 
one of the boats. In the meantime, the ship 
was settling down. When the after deck was 
within a foot of the water, the master ordered 
the boats to pull away from the vessel for two 
or three hundred yards and there to remain. 

There were thus left on board the sinking 
ship: the master, who was on the bridge, the 
chief officer, ranging the decks, the wireless op- 
erator, sticking by his instrnment, and stand- 
ing by the gun, the two gunners, three engineers 
and the carpenter. 

These officers and men were taking a double 
risk. The ship might go down under them as 
she was, or she might be sunk by a second tor- 
pedo, which might also kill or wound those on 
board. 

But a patrol boat was in sight; there was 
still a chance, if the submarine emerged, of hit- 
ting her with a shot from the ship's gun; and 
there was even a vanishing chance of saving the 
ship. 

So the master, the chief officer, the wireless 
operator, the two gunners, the three engineers, 
and the carpenter, nine steadfast men, stayed 
by their ship. They saw, a long way off, an- 
other steamer, which appeared to be in distress. 



NINE STEADFAST MEN 281 

The next thing was that the chief engineer in 
the boat, which was hanging off and on not far 
from the ship, heard the gasp and hiss of com- 
pressed air escaping, and recognised the sound 
of the firing of a torpedo under water close be- 
neath him. 

At the same moment, the watchers in the ship 
saw a periscope and fired at it; and as they 
fired, the second torpedo struck the ship in the 
engine-room, exploding with tremendous vio- 
lence. 

The men in the ship, dazed by the shock and 
with water and wreckage falling all about them, 
felt the deck under their feet going down and 
down. The master, cool and unhurried, hailed 
the boat nearest to the ship to come alongside, 
and hove overboard his confidential papers. 

The nine men slid into the boat, which backed 
hard off, and cleared the ship. She turned over 
and sank by the stern. 

The people in the boats saw a number of pa- 
trol boats gathering about the distant ship 
which had appeared to be sinking, and then the 
patrol boat which had been first sighted came 
up and took them into port. 



XLVIII 

Carnage 

At a little after six o 'clock on the morning of 
May 26th, 1917, a submarine opened fire at long 
range upon the steamship Umaria. 

The master instantly ordered fire to be 
opened in reply. The gunner of the Umaria 
had fired five rounds when the striker of the 
gun broke, and the gun was made useless. 
Then the master employed smoke-boxes, as his 
last resource, in the hope of obscuring the aim 
of the enemy; but nevertheless his shells fell 
fast and deadly. 

One shell killed a native and wounded several 
firemen and two cadets. Another smashed a 
lifeboat, and with it a native who had fled into 
it for refuge. A splinter broke the thigh of 
the fourth engineer. The steering gear was 
struck, and the ship went out of control. 

It was then about three-quarters of an hour 
since the action had begun. The master decided 
to abandon the ship. The engineers were called 
up from below, and the boats were lowered un- 
der continuous fire from the enemy. Three life- 
boats were got away. As the gig was being 

282 



CARNAGE 28S 

lowered the master was struck on the shoulder 
by a splinter. While those about him were 
dressing the wound as best they could, the gig 
drifted away from the ship. In the gig were 
the wounded and helpless fourth engineer, the 
second engineer, two cadets, a gunner, a native 
fireman, and a saloon boy : seven in all. 

The gig's crew began to row back towards 
the ship, whereupon the submarine, which 
mounted a four-inch gun, fired on them. The 
fourth engineer received another frightful in- 
jury; the second engineer had his leg smashed 
and other hurts ; one of the cadets was hit in the 
arm and in the leg; the gunner was wounded 
in several places, the native had two wounds 
and the saloon boy was slightly hurt. There 
remained but one person in the boat, a cadet, 
untouched. 

Those who had stayed by the master got into 
the boat, which was ordered by the commanding 
officer of the submarine to come alongside. The 
German informed the chief officer that he had 
taken prisoner the second officer, the third en- 
gineer, and a cadet, and he demanded the per- 
son of the master. 

The master held his peace. The chief officer 
told the German that the master was badly 
wounded, whereupon the German took the chief 
engineer on board the submarine, and in his 
stead released the third engineer. 

The commanding officer of the submarine, 
leaning on the rail of the conning tower, looked 
down upon his victims. 

Crouched upon the thwarts in the sunlight, 



284 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

up to their knees in the water, which, stained 
crimson, was flowing through the shell-holes in 
the planking, soaked with blood, holding their 
wounds, staring with hunted eyes, was the heap 
of stricken men. 

The German ordered the boat away. The 
shore was fifteen miles distant. There were no 
more than three men in the boat who could pull 
an oar: the chief officer, the third officer, and 
the third engineer who had been released from 
the submarine. Without appliances, crowded 
together in the waterlogged boat, they made 
what shift they could to dress the wounded. 
Then they rowed towards the shore. 

It was about eight o 'clock when they left the 
submarine. They saw the submarine firing at 
the deserted ship, which sank about 9.30 a.m. 

Before that time the fourth engineer, who had 
twice been so dreadfully wounded, died. For 
over six interminable, tormented hours the boat 
was adrift, the sun beating more and more 
fiercely upon the wounded men, who had neither 
food nor water, and whose hurts were stiffening, 
so that the slightest movement was agony. 

Then an Italian rowing-boat came up, and 
towed the wretched men to a patrol vessel, into 
which they were taken. The patrol boat had 
already picked up the other three boats. A 
fireman died on the way to an Italian port, 
where the survivors were treated with every 
kindness. Afterwards they were transferred to 
another town, and here the ladies of the Eng- 
lish colony tended them. 



XLIX 

Unavoidable 

On May 30th, 1917, the steamship Bathurst, 
in company with the steamship Hanley, home- 
ward bound, was about ninety miles from the 
south-west coast of Ireland. The Bathurst was 
unarmed. The Hanley mounted a gun for the 
defence of both vessels ; she was keeping station 
on the port side of the Bathurst, about half a 
mile away from her. The weather was fine and 
clear and the sea a flat calm. On board the 
Bathurst the whole of the officers and men on 
deck were keeping a look-out. 

Early in the afternoon, the people in the 
Bathurst saw a fountain of water, mingled with 
black smoke, flung up on the port side of the 
Hanley, and observed her to slow down and 
presently to stop. It was, of course, obvious to 
the master of the Bathurst that the Hanley had 
been attacked by an invisible enemy submarine. 
To go to the assistance of the Hanley would 
have involved the loss of the Bathurst. In these 
emergencies each ship must look after herself. 
As matters stood, the Bathurst was in immi- 
nent danger; and the chance of saving her de- 
pended upon the instant action of the master. 

285 



286 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

Her helm was put over, and she was kept on at 
full speed, steering a zig-zag course. 

About half an hour later, when the distance 
separating the two vessels had increased to 
three miles, the master of the Bathurst per- 
ceived, ruffling the water, a track beginning 
from under the stern of the Hartley and coming 
to about a mile astern of the Bathurst. The 
next moment a submarine emerged, and in- 
stantly opened fire at a range of about 2,000 
yards. The master of the Bathurst kept her at 
full speed, until several times shells had ex- 
ploded on her decks. His ship was unarmed and 
she could not escape; the Hanley, which 
mounted a gun, was already torpedoed ; and the 
master of the Bathurst had no choice but to 
abandon her. He blew two long blasts on the 
whistle, and ordered the crew into the boats; 
waited until the way was off the ship, and or- 
dered the boats to be lowered. One of the four 
boats had been damaged by shell fire, and the 
master took the men in her aboard his own boat. 

In the meantime the submarine continued her 
fire. As the boats of the Bathurst pulled away 
from the ship, the men in them saw that the dis- 
tant Hanley was settling down in the water, and 
that her boats were pulling away from her. 

The submarine continued to fire at the Bath- 
urst until she also began to settle down. Then 
the submarine approached the boats of the 
Bathurst; the commanding officer of the sub- 
marine ordered the master's boat alongside; 
and demanded information concerning both 
ships and their cargoes. The German officer 



UNAVOIDABLE 287 

ordered the master of the Bathurst to deliver to 
him the ship's papers and chronometers. The 
master told him that these had been left on 
board the Bathurst. At this point one of the 
seamen on board the submarine reported to the 
German officer that other vessels were ap- 
proaching, whereupon the submarine hastily- 
got under way and went astern at full speed 
towards the Bathurst. She fired a torpedo into 
the Bathurst, striking her amidships, went 
swiftly across to the Hanley, fired another tor- 
pedo into her, and then went away, steering 
westward. 

Ere the submarine was out of sight, the men 
in the boats sighted the smoke of two vessels 
coming swiftly towards them from the eastward, 
and soon afterwards two patrol boats hove into 
view, passed the boats at full speed, and went 
on in pursuit of the submarine, firing as they 
went. 

It was then about four o'clock in the after- 
noon. The men in the boats saw the Bathurst 
sink, and shortly afterwards saw the Hanley go 
down also. The master of the Bathurst or- 
dered sail to be set on the boats, and the course 
to be set towards the land. The men in the 
boats of the Hartley were left behind for the 
time being. Soon afterwards they were picked 
up by the patrol boats, which afterwards picked 
up the boats of the Bathurst. 



Quite 0. K. 

The report of the master of the Miniota de- 
serves to be recorded in his own words ; for he 
owns a right English style, as forthright, terse, 
and idiomatic as the sturdy diction of that mas- 
ter of narrative, Sir Eoger L 'Estrange. 

So here is the story of the master of the 
Miniota: 

I beg leave to report that at 3.40 p.m. June 
4th, 1917, in (such and such) a latitude and 
longitude, we sighted a submarine, bearing 
down upon us from our port beam, and firing 
as she approached. We brought her astern and 
opened fire in return. Finding her shots were 
falling short of us, as also ours of her, we 
ceased firing, with a view to allowing her to 
overtake us somewhat, and so to bring her 
within range. Later, finding her shots were 
falling unpleasantly near, we opened fire on 
her, and found that we just had her within 
range, our last shot only missing her by a few 
yards. She evidently did not relish taking any 
further chances, for she opened her broadside 

288 



QUITE O.K. 289 

to us, fired both guns, and dived. So the inci- 
dent closed with what we considered vantage to 
us. We expended thirty rounds in the duel, to 
somewhere about fifty to sixty rounds of the 
enemy. 

At about 7 p.m., we noticed that an American 
ship, which was about three and a half miles 
away on our port bow, appeared to be in diffi- 
culties. We were overtaking her fast, and on 
closer inspection found that she had stopped. 
We concluded that she had been hit, and that 
doubtless the submarine would be endeavouring 
to bring off a double event, in view of which we 
put our helm hard a-port, and, while swinging 
round to it, sighted his periscope some 200 or 
300 yards away, aft of our beam. 

There is no doubt that the submarine, on get- 
ting a view of us through her periscope, found 
herself in a false position for attack, being right 
under our gun. So she wisely submerged, 
swirled the water up twice under our stern, but 
did not show herself, realising that, with a 
point-blank bead on her, she was at our mercy. 

In the meantime, our wireless operator inter- 
cepted a brief message from the American, say- 
ing that she was sinking. Concluding that 
there was something amiss with her wireless 
installation, we sent out a message for her, giv- 
ing her position and saying that her boats were 
in the water. 

However, the time spent by the submarine 
paying her attentions to us gave the American 
ship the opportunity of putting her house in 
order. Doubtless finding that she was not as 



290 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

badly wounded as she had thought, and not be- 
ing further attacked, she had started to hoist 
her boats in, and was steaming slowly ahead. 
Next we saw the submarine come to the surface 
some distance astern of her, and circle round 
on her port side, whence she started shelling 
the American ship, which replied. The shelling 
went on for some time. 

The American ship appeared to be hit several 
times, eventually ceased firing and steamed 
away. So far as we could see she was not much 
the worse for the encounter. 

The next day the American ship sent out a 
message to the effect that she had sunk the sub- 
marine and that everything was quite O.K. with 
her, so that, accepting such to be the case, it fol- 
lows that the submarine, in her greed to take 
the two of us, lost both, and herself to boot. 

I would wish to state that the morale of our 
ship's company left nothing to be desired. Our 
gunners, when once they got into their stride, 
were quick on the trigger, and most accurate 
in their fire. 

Thus the master of the Miniota, thus and no 
more. He outmanoeuvred and outfought the 
enemy, stood by his American friend, took his 
chances and saved his ship, all with a cheerful 
zest and a mind at ease. Another German 
shark was sent to the bottom and "everything 
was quite O.K." 



LI 

The Chase by Night 

At nine o'clock on the evening of June 8th, 
1917, the steamship Akabo, homeward bound, 
was about 250 miles west of Land's End. It 
was a grey evening, the sea running in a gentle 
swell from the north-west. On the forecastle 
head, in the crow's nest, on the bridge, aft, 
and along the rail amidships, men, vigilant and 
motionless, scanned the sea, marking every 
ripple and shadow. Among the watchers were 
four passengers, who had volunteered for duty. 
One man, or several men, sighted a periscope, 
the little black oblong hove up on the surface. 
As the cry went up the master had his foot on 
the ladder of the lower bridge. The periscope 
was then half a point abaft the starboard beam 
and about 400 yards away. 

The master sprang up to the navigating 
bridge and ordered the helm to be put hard 
over. The Akabo, which was steaming at about 
twelve knots, instantly answered to the helm, 
and swung round until the submarine was about 
four points on the starboard quarter. Then, 
those looking out on the starboard side saw a 

291 



292 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

torpedo glide past, the swerving of the vessel 
having saved her. The master rang down to the 
engine-room to make all possible speed, and 
signalled to the gunners that there was a sub- 
marine on the starboard quarter. 

The conning tower of the submarine emerged. 
Fire was opened upon it from the Akabo, and 
the submarine dived swiftly. The master of the 
Akabo kept her at full speed, constantly alter- 
ing course, and, for the time being, the subma- 
rine was no more seen. 

The master increased the number of look- 
outs, and so held on his course for nearly three 
hours. 

It was almost midnight when a look-out aft 
sighted a submarine on the port quarter. The 
people on the bridge were unable to see the 
enemy, but, as the alarm was given, the helm 
was put hard over, and full speed was main- 
tained. At the same moment, according to the 
statement of the crew looking aft, they heard 
the cough and hiss of the firing of a torpedo, 
and a few moments later, they reported that a 
second torpedo had been fired. 

The gunners of the Akabo opened fire on the 
submarine, and the second shot exploded with 
a sound as of the impact of metal on metal, 
indicating that the conning tower of the sub- 
marine had been struck. But the damage in- 
flicted was evidently not serious, for the look- 
out aft continued to report from time to time 
that a submarine had been sighted ; and at each 
report the master altered course in order to 
bring the submarine astern. 



THE CHASE BY NIGHT 293 

At about half-past two in the morning, the 
watchers perceived a rough glitter patching the 
smooth dark swell, and knew that the phos- 
phorescence betrayed the hunting submarine. 
Then, her periscope stuck forth from the light 
patch about 400 yards off the starboard beam 
of the Alcabo. The master once more put her 
helm hard over. The next moment a torpedo 
was seen by the people on the bridge to pass 
the vessel and to disappear towards the port 
bow. Again the swift manoeuvring of the Aba- 
ft o foiled the enemy. The gunners fired three 
shots at the periscope, which again submerged. 

Soon afterwards the lights of the coast were 
sighted, and the master of the Akabo altered 
course to close two men-of-war. 

At daylight the Akabo was met by a destroyer 
of the United States Navy, which escorted her 
out of the danger zone. 

The master reports that the behaviour of the 
passengers and crew was admirable. 

The case of the Akabo is an example of what 
can be done by means of strict vigilance and 
skilled seamanship. We are now a long way 
from the early experiences of the war at sea, 
when the mercantile marine faced the unseen 
enemy, unarmed and unprepared. We now re- 
mark officers and men owning a gun and the 
skill to use it, practised in the wiles of the 
enemy, knowing what he will do, and how to 
prevent him from doing it, and ready for all 
contingencies. The submarine shows herself at 
her peril. 



LII 

The Second Chance 

When the City of Exeter struck a mine, she 
was within some twenty miles of a port on the 
west coast of India. 

The master, acting upon the plan arranged 
by him beforehand to meet all contingencies, 
set his organisation in motion. 

As the ship was settling down by the head, 
the master had first to secure the safety of 
passengers and crew; and secondly, to combine 
with that precaution an opportunity for saving 
the ship should she remain afloat. 

Accordingly, he ordered the six lifeboats to 
be manned and lowered, and then to remain 
near by the ship. If she sank, the boats were 
to steer for the land. 

Crew and passengers, numbering 181 in all, 
orderly embarked and stood by. The whole of 
the engine room staff, knowing that the ship 
might founder at any moment, remained at 
their posts below, until they received orders to 
come on deck. 

Now when a crew have once quitted an in- 
jured ship, which may be sinking, they are at 

294 



THE SECOND CHANCE 295 

once released from the stress of imminent dan- 
ger. They definitely end one episode, and begin 
another, perhaps of an equal danger, but of a 
different danger. To ask men to return to the 
original peril, is to ask them to reverse in a 
moment the whole current of their mind, and 
to make a great call upon their constancy and 
courage. Here is one reason why it is essential 
to make a plan beforehand and to impart it to 
the crew. Their minds are then prepared for 
all requisite action ; leaving the ship becomes a 
provisional instead of a final measure; and if 
they are required to return to the vessel, al- 
though the order needs no less courage to exe- 
cute, it has the quality of the expected. 

So the six lifeboats, filled with crew and 
passengers, lay off on the heaving sea, in the 
thick rain, and contemplated the wounded ship, 
rolling there, settling down by the bows, melan- 
choly and alone. They waited thus for an hour. 

Then the master ordered all to come on board 
again ; and as orderly as they had embarked in 
the boats, crew and passengers drew alongside 
the City of Exeter, hooked on the falls, hauled 
up the boats, secured them to the davits, and 
proceeded each to his post. 

The master ordered slow speed and continued 
on his course. There were thirty-four feet of 
water in No. 1 hold, and for aught the master 
knew, its bulkheads might give way at any 
moment under the immense additional pressure. 
Had a bulkhead burst, another hold would have 
been flooded, and then in all probability another, 
and the ship must have gone. down. 



296 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

But the bulkheads held from minute to min- 
ute, for the rest of the day. It was about half- 
past nine in the morning when the City of Ex- 
eter began to nose through the tropical rain 
whelming sea and sky. Hour after hour she 
crawled on at between two and three knots, and 
in the afternoon the master picked up the land. 

By six o 'clock he had anchored in the harbour, 
"without any outside assistance." The ship 
was then drawing thirty-four feet forward, and 
twenty- two feet six inches aft. 

' ' I have much pleasure, ' ' reports the master, 
"in stating that all members of the crew, both 
European and native, behaved splendidly dur- 
ing the trying time. ' ' 

Students of the affair will appreciate the 
conduct of the master himself, concerning which 
he says nothing. 



Lin 

Hard Pressed 

When the steamship Holywell was approach- 
ing the entrance to the English Channel, the 
master sighted a submarine, about two miles 
away on the starboard beam. 

The master was ready, the crew were ready, 
and many things happened simultaneously on 
board the Holywell. The course was altered, 
the men ran to their stations, the wireless oper- 
ator sent out a message, and the gunners opened 
fire on the enemy. Such are the results produced 
by a submarine within a few seconds of her 
appearance. Her quarry swerves, she gets a 
shell about her ears, and her position is made 
known with the speed of lightning to all whom 
it may concern. Thus it happened on June 11th, 
1917, at 7.15 in the morning. 

The gunners of the Holywell fired two rounds. 
Then the submarine dived until her hull was 
under water, leaving her two masts and peri- 
scope projecting. As she was running sub- 
merged her speed dropped, and the master of 
the Holywell drew away from her. Observe 
now one of the incidental advantages of mount- 

397 



298 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

ing an adequate gun. The submarine, forced to 
run under water for fear of being hit, thereby 
decreases her speed from eighteen to twenty- 
knots to about twelve. 

The master, during the chase, observed no 
torpedo, but two of the native crew reported 
that they saw a torpedo pass astern of the 
ship. 

By about half-past nine, or some two hours 
after the submarine had been sighted, she had 
disappeared. 

The master held on till a quarter-past two, 
when a submarine emerged no more than the 
ship's length away, abreast of the engine-room 
on the port side. Here was a very near thing 
indeed. Over went the helm of the Holywell, 
the enemy 's torpedo passed within ten feet of 
the ship's stern, and at the same moment the 
gunner fired, his second shot exploding just 
over the submarine. Wireless messages were 
sent, and the firemen below double-banked the 
furnaces. The submarine went under. She 
stepped one mast, not two; so that she was 
probably a different vessel from the first sub- 
marine sighted. 

During her attack, the master sighted yet 
another submarine five miles away on the port 
quarter. The gunner opened fire upon her. His 
three shots fell short. The submarine replied 
with twelve shots, all of which fell short, but 
they struck the water no more than the ship's 
length astern. 

The master of the Holywell, conversing with 
the authorities by wireless, held on, steering 



HARD PRESSED 299 

through a melancholy and a significant field of 
wreckage. At seven in the evening, one of his 
Majesty's ships picked him up and escorted him 
until dark. The master went on alone until 
four o'clock the next morning, when another 
ship of war escorted him into port. 

It is due to the master that his admirable 
organisation worked with so swift a precision 
that he beat off and escaped from three enemies 
in one day. Conceive now the extraordinary 
tension of the unwinking vigilance required of 
the master, who must remain on the bridge by 
day and by night, and whose slightest relaxa- 
tion may lose his ship. But he saved her. 



LIV 

Quite Interesting 

The following brief and spirited narrative 
was related by the master of the steamship 
Hawerford, upon reporting his arrival at an 
English port on June 13th, 1917 : 

The voyage, which was uneventful until we 
approached the coast, became quite interesting 
when we saw a submarine on the surface some 
distance away. Unfortunately, we had no op- 
portunity of demonstrating our ability with the 
gun, because our escort, which was more advan- 
tageously armed, opened fire, and the submarine 
dived. 

About four and a half hours later, the look-out 
in the crow's-nest and the gunlayer aft both re- 
ported "torpedo on starboard quarter.' ' The 
second officer, who was in charge of the watch, 
acted promptly, ordering the helm hard a-star- 
board. The torpedo passed under the stern, and 
so close to the ship along the port side that we 
put the helm the other way for fear of taking 
the torpedo on our port bow. 

The look-out man and the gunner had previ- 
ously been noted for their vigilance. I cannot 
speak too highly of the presence of mind and 
effective right action, at the critical moment, of 
the second officer. 

300 



QUITE INTERESTING 301 

Our escort, upon leaving us, semaphored 
"Good-bye and good luck. I hope you will 
always be as skilful and lucky in dodging them. ' ' 

I consider myself exceedingly fortunate in 
having that skilful assistance which enables me 
to report our safe arrival ; and I am proud, but 
not surprised, to report that the crew to a man 
maintained the best tradition of the service. 

So much for the master's account of the mat- 
ter. Those who are acquainted with the nar- 
ratives of the Elizabethan seamen will recog- 
nise the right English ring of the same metal. 
We had thought the trick of it was lost, and 
marvelled at the Elizabethan accomplishment. 
But now it seems that the old fire was but 
smothered under the ashes of modern commer- 
cialism, dead to all but money-making ; that the 
business of shoving a ship from port to port 
and back again to make profits for shareholders, 
had killed the spirit of the sea. But when it 
comes to fighting, and the huckster takes sec- 
ond place, the ancient pride shines forth again. 

The master of the Haver ford says nothing of 
the five hours' vigil between the first attack 
and the second. Only those who have stood on 
deck, staring at the troubled and secret water, 
know in what the stress consists. If it were 
always possible to sight the enemy before he 
attacked, or even to sight the torpedo, the sus- 
pense would be strain enough. But the watch- 
ers know that the ship may be struck at any 
moment, without a premonitory sign. 



LV 

Short and Sharp 

Early in the morning of June 12th, 1917, the 
steamship Quillota, approaching the entrance to 
the English Channel, was firing steadily at a 
long, low, hnmped target some six miles distant. 
It was a large submarine; from her belched 
flame and smoke, and her projectiles, striking 
the sea astern of the Quillota, threw up white 
fountains. The guns crashed, the ship shook as 
she sped, and the fountains danced in her wake, 
for a wild ten minutes. Then the gunner of the 
Quillota saw his target diminish and presently 
disappear. The submarine had dived. The 
Quillota was untouched. 

Presently, the master descried three boats 
adrift and full of people, all that was left of 
some tall ship. The first duty of a master in 
times of piracy is, not to save others but, to save 
his ship. For all the master of the Quillota 
knew, a submarine was lurking near the boats, 
ready to fire a torpedo into the Quillota did she 
stay to pick them up. Such is the custom of the 
pirates. 

So the master of the Quillota had no choice 
but to hold on. He sent a wireless message; re- 
ceived an answer; and presently two of his 
Majesty's ships came foaming along. They 

302 



SHORT AND SHARP 303 

picked up the boats, and one of them came after 
the Quillota and escorted her npon her way. 

Here is an instance of the whole organisation 
working to the defeat of the enemy. The sub- 
marine is beaten off by gun-fire ; the ship, escap- 
ing, avoids a trap, and calls for succour, which 
promptly arrives. 

The affair of the Indicm is another affair of 
successful tactics. She also was approaching 
the entrance to the Channel, early in the morn- 
ing of June 12th, 1917. There was a radiant 
sky, with a southerly wind, and all on deck were 
keeping a strict look-out. 

The master descried among the sparkling, 
luminous run of sea, a patch or stain. The 
helm was put over and the emergency signal 
rung down to the engine-room. As the ship 
went about the master saw the trail of a tor- 
pedo lengthening from the piece of discoloured 
water. It was travelling directly towards the 
position occupied by the ship before the helm 
was put over, and passed astern of her. 

The gunners, looking out aft, presently sight- 
ed the submarine emerging some three miles 
away, and opened fire upon her. The enemy 
fired in return, then, dropping swiftly astern, 
was speedily lost to view. 

The master sent a wireless message, and held 
on. After about an hour, a vessel of the United 
States Navy hove into view, went by at full 
speed and presently disappeared. 

The master of the Indian heard the distant 
sound of firing. 



LVI 

Mixing It 

When the master of the Pakna, on the after- 
noon of June 18th, 1917, sighted the track of a 
torpedo, the ship was off the north coast of 
Ireland. He put the helm over and stopped the 
port engine. The torpedo, which, approaching 
the starboard beam, must have been fired 
from an invisible submarine from starboard, 
passed close under the stern of the ship. At the 
same moment, while the ship was swinging to 
her helm, the master saw a periscope away to 
port and coming towards the vessel, indicating a 
second submarine. She fired a torpedo, which 
also passed under the stern of the Palma. Here, 
then, was a double attack. 

The next moment, the periscope of the sub- 
marine coming towards the port side passed 
under the stern so close to the rudder that the 
gunners stationed aft told the master they could 
have hung their caps on it. In the meantime, 
the submarine which had fired a torpedo from 
the starboard side fired a second torpedo as she 
steered for the ship, and then met the port side 
submarine under the P alma's stern. The mas- 

304 



MIXING IT 805 

ter thinks that they must have collided with 
each other. 

While the two submarines were entangled 
under the stern of the Palma, the three tor- 
pedoes they had discharged were plunging 
about in her wake. 

So close under the stern were the submarines 
that the gunners stationed aft in the Palma 
could not at first depress the gun low enough to 
get the sights on them; then, as the ship went 
forward and the submarines dropped astern, 
the gunners opened fire on them. For the first 
few rounds they sighted on the hull of one sub- 
marine, which then disappeared. After the 
sixth round nothing was visible. Nor was the 
Palma again troubled. 

Here was a double attack smartly defeated, 
with what seems to have been loss to the enemy. 
The manoeuvre by means of which the two sub- 
marines, by simultaneously attacking, one on 
either side of the ship, proposed to ensure her 
destruction, was frustrated by the master's 
prompt use of helm and engine. 



Lvn 

Short and Sweet 

On June 20th, 1917, the Valeria was in the 
ganger zone off the west coast of Ireland. It 
was three o'clock in the morning. In the col- 
ourless light of the dawn heralding sunrise, the 
^sea was heaving in a long slow swell. The mas- 
ter and the second officer were on watch. There 
came a shock that vibrated throughout the ship ; 
the second officer, leaning over the starboard 
rail of the bridge, shouted to the master, who 
ran across the bridge from the port side. Both 
officers looked down upon a troubled patch of 
water, whence, with a hissing sound and a pun- 
gent odour, there streamed the burnt gas from 
the exhausts of a submarine. 

As the ship, steaming at eleven knots, drew 
clear of the rising submarine, the gunners sta- 
tioned aft rang through to the bridge, signalling 
that they had sighted the enemy. The sub- 
marine lay athwart the course of the Valeria, 
about 100 yards away. Her periscope was 
broken off and she was consequently blind. 

The chief gunner swiftly depressed his gun 
and fired. There was a loud explosion, flinging 

306 



SHORT AND SWEET SOT 

up a fountain of water mingled with thick 
vapour, and the gunners signalled a hit to the 
master. He ordered them to continue firing. 
The second shot was a miss, the third struck the 
base of the conning tower. Then the submarine 
settled down and sank. 

On the surface, large bubbles continually 
formed and broke ; and the men of the Valeria, 
as the ship receded from the place, still marked 
the bubbles rising and vanishing; until, as the 
Valeria went on her way at full speed, there was 
nothing save the long slow swell of the sea, shin- 
ing in the level rays of the summer dawn. 



LVIII 

The Escape op the ' ' Nitronian ' ' 

When the master of the Nitronian sighted 
the submarine, he altered course, putting the 
enemy astern, ordered utmost speed, sent a 
wireless message and gave the gunners the 
alert. Between the time when the submarine 
was descried and the moment she fired was an 
interval of two minutes. In that interval, the 
whole ship was prepared, all firemen off duty 
went into the stokehold, and two quartermas- 
ters took the wheel. 

It was about half -past eleven on the morning 
of June 20th, and the ship was approaching the 
west coast of Ireland. She carried a very valu- 
able cargo. It was clear grey weather with a 
north-easterly breeze and a run of sea. 

The first shot fired by the submarine fell 
short of the Nitronian, whose gunners instantly 
replied. But the enemy kept out of range of the 
gun of the Nitronian, manoeuvring to get be- 
tween the ship and the shore and so to cut her 
off from help. 

Firing on both sides continued for twenty 
minutes, when a shell pierced the deck of the 
Nitronicm, setting fire to some bales of cotton 
sweepings, stowed in No. 1 hold. 

The master saw smoke coming from the hold, 
but as all the men on deck were passing ammu- 

308 



THE ESCAPE OF THE "NITRONIAN" 309 

nition to the gunners, there was none to spare 
to extinguish the fire, so the master let it alone 
and hoped for the best. He did not know at the 
moment that the shell had also smashed a steam 
pipe, so that in any case the pumps could not be 
put on until the pipe was repaired. 

The ship was now heading westward; shells 
were falling close about her, and her gun could 
not reach the enemy. Thereupon the master 
used his smoke-boxes. 

A black vapour rolled upon the water; and 
behind that dusky shield, the master of the 
Nitronian fled with his eight thousand tons of 
precious cargo, fifty-five lives of men, and his 
great ship in which a fire smouldered. There 
was scant hope of escape; but there was a 
chance. 

Under cover of the thick smoke the master 
held on for half an hour; and when it thinned 
the submarine had drawn nearer, so near that 
she was within range. 

The gunners of the Nitronian instantly 
opened fire again, the sixth shot narrowly miss- 
ing the submarine, which promptly went about, 
retreated at full speed, dived, and was no more 
seen. 

Soon afterwards one of his Majesty's ships 
escorted the Nitronian into harbour, where the 
fire was put out. The Nitronian sailed again 
and safely arrived at her port of destination. 

Ship and cargo and men had been saved by 
the judgment, skilled seamanship and constancy 
of the master, supported by the excellent con- 
duct of the crew, of whom "the master speaks 
in the highest possible terms. ' ' 



LIX 

The Danger Zone 

The steamship Cavour, mounting a gun, was 
escorting the steamship Clifftower, which was 
unarmed, home from a South American port. 
On July 8th, 1917, when the two ships were off 
the Lizard, the Clifftower keeping station about 
a mile astern of the Cavour, the Clifftower sig- 
nalled that she was being attacked by a sub- 
marine. The master of the Cavour put his helm 
over, and, steaming broad off the starboard bow 
of his convoy, saw the enemy lying close to her 
starboard quarter. 

Putting the Cavour about, the master ordered 
the gunners to open fire. The first shot burst 
over the bows of the submarine, the second close 
to her, and then she submerged. 

In the meantime, wireless messages had been 
sent from both vessels. The smoke of a de- 
stroyer was already in sight; and within ten 
minutes, she came tearing along at full speed, 
eased down, and circled about the place where 
the submarine had been, while the Cavour and 
the Clifftower made haste to depart. 

A few minutes later a speck appeared in the 
310 



THE DANGER ZONE 311 

sky, low down, grew momently larger, and pres- 
ently an airship glided over the destroyer and 
hovered there. 

That was the last the two escaping ships saw 
of the affair; the long black destroyer, the 
smoke, the vigilant silver fish floating poised, 
watching, in the empyrean . . . And the mas- 
ter of the Cavour observes that "there would 
appear to be a possibility of the submarine hav- 
ing been destroyed.' ' 



LX 

Receiving Visitors 

Here is the description of a late type of Ger- 
man submarine, contributed by a British master 
who profited by a singular opportunity of sur- 
veying the vessel at disagreeably close quarters. 

She was about 150 feet in length, having one 
gun mounted aft, and two torpedo-tubes fitted 
in the bows outside the main structure. She 
carried a wire over all, which appeared to have 
wireless aerials rigged to it. She had a semi- 
circular steel dodger for a conning tower. No 
periscopes were visible. Lashed down on the 
after deck were a boat and a raft. She was 
painted light grey above the water and choco- 
late colour below, and carried no mark, nor 
number nor flag. She was very easy to handle 
and of high speed. 

The master, when he took note of the pirate 
vessel, was sitting alongside her in his boat, con- 
versing with the commanding officer of the sub- 
marine, who had just torpedoed the master's 
ship. She had been badly damaged, but had 
righted herself. The German officer, with seven 
men, embarked in the master's boat and ordered 
the crew to pull them over to the ship. 

313 



RECEIVING VISITORS 313 

While the German sailors were about dis- 
mounting the ship's gun, the German officer 
invited the master to accompany him into the 
chart room, where the German took possession 
of the charts, and thence into the master's cabin. 

Now the master, by reason of the effect upon 
him of the tremendous shock of the explosion 
and of some very distressing consequences 
thereof, had forgotten to destroy his confiden- 
tial papers before leaving the ship. These were 
contained in a bag, and the bag was on the seat 
of the master's chair. 

Upon entering his cabin, the master, with 
great presence of mind, sat down on his papers 
(like the miser who used to warm his dinner by 
sitting upon it). There he was glued, while the 
German officer plied him with leading questions 
concerning the position of mine fields, and ap- 
propriated the ship's chronometers and other 
articles which took his fancy. In the meantime, 
the master became aware that the German sail- 
ors were also pillaging the ship. 

It is remarkable that the German officer did 
not ask for the confidential papers, usually the 
first demand of German submarine officers. 
When the German, in the course of his research- 
es, turned his back, the master smuggled the bag 
of papers under his overcoat, and strolled 
towards the door. But the German was along- 
side him in a moment. 

"I come mit you, my friend," said the Ger- 
man ; whereupon the master loitered back to his 
chair and sat down again, as though in an ex- 
tremity of fatigue. The German continued 



314 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

amiably to fill his pockets, and again the master, 
as though in absence of mind, edged towards the 
door, and again the German was elbow to elbow 
with him. 

Then the master tried again, and then again, 
and the same thing happened. By that time, 
the German officer, finding nothing more he 
wanted, suggested they should go on deck. The 
master, as a last resource, dropped his overcoat, 
in which the bag was concealed, over the chair, 
and so left it. 

The German sailors, having placed bombs for- 
ward in the ship, and loaded the master's boat 
with stores and gear, embarked in her, followed 
by the German officer and the master. As they 
drew clear of the ship, the bombs exploded, but 
the vessel remained afloat. When the master's 
boat had been sent adrift by the submarine offi- 
cer, the master saw the submarine, after firing 
into the ship, go alongside her. The submarine 
remained under the ship 's quarter for about two 
hours, but at the distance his boat lay from the 
ship the master could not see whether or not the 
Germans went aboard again. 

So they may have obtained the papers, or 
they may not. Life may be stranger than fic- 
tion, but it is not nearly so satisfactory; for 
what teller of tales but would have depicted the 
German as completely outwitted by the British 
seaman? Truth is an austere mistress. And 
yet she is kind, too ; for she will have us to know 
that the British seaman is getting the upper 
hand of the outlaw of the sea, and permits us to 
be very sure that he will keep it. 



LXI 

The Master op the " Nelson' ' 

Sometimes a name is like a flag, a symbol to 
hearten and to clench defiance. The smack was 
called the Nelson. She was a fishing vessel, 
fitted with an auxiliary motor, and mounting a 
gun. Her master wrote R.N.R. after his name. 

Upon an August afternoon, he shot the trawl 
and put the Nelson on the port tack. Then he 
went below to pack fish, leaving a hand on deck 
who was busy cleaning fish for to-morrow's 
breakfast. 

Presently the master, returning to the deck, 
sighted a distant craft, stared at it intently, sent 
for his glasses, and stared at it again. Then he 
sang out : 

' ' Clear for action! Submarine !" 

A shell struck up a fountain about a hundred 
yards away on the port bow. The man who was 
cleaning fish ran to the ammunition room, the 
engineer went to his motor, and the rest of the 
men let go the warp, putting a dan on the end of 
it in order to be able to pick up the trawl after- 
wards. The master took the helm. 

The distant submarine continued to fire. The 
Nelson was outranged, but the master, watch- 

315 



316 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

ing the shells striking near about the smack, 
gave the order to return the fire. 

"No use waiting any longer," said the mas- 
ter. ' ' Let them have it. ' ' 

The gunner did his best, but his shots fell 
hopelessly short. The fourth round fired by the 
submarine went through the bows of the smack 
below the waterline. The master put the smack 
about to get the submarine astern. 

At the seventh round fired by the submarine, 
the shell struck the master, tearing a piece out 
of his side, pierced the deck and passed out of 
the smack through her side. As the master fell, 
his son took the wheel. The smack was sinking 
under their feet. 

The gunner tried to give first aid to the mas- 
ter, but he was beyond mortal help. 

"It's all right, boy. Do your best with the 
gun," said the master; and he called to the 
second hand to send a message. The second 
hand wrote at the dying man's dictation, and 
this was what he wrote: — 

"Nelson being attacked by submarine. Skip- 
per killed. Send assistance at once. ' ' 

The paper was attached to the pigeon, and 
the bird carried the news of a man's death, sent 
by the man himself. 

The smack was settling down ; there were left 
but five rounds of ammunition ; and the second 
hand went to the skipper lying there on the deck 
and heard him say : 

"Abandon ship. Throw the books over- 
board. ' ' He meant his confidential papers, and 
it was done. 



THE MASTER OF THE "NELSON" 317 

He was asked then if they should lift him into 
the boat, but his answer was : 

"Tom, I'm done. Throw me overboard." 

But he was so dreadfully wounded that they 
dared not try to move him; and they left him 
where he lay on the deck, which was level with 
the water, embarked in the boat, and lay off, 
waiting for the end. The dusk was gathering, 
and there was a great stillness, for the subma- 
rine had gone away. 

About a quarter of an hour afterwards, the 
Nelson, her colours flying, went down with her 
master. 

The rest of the crew pulled towards England 
all that night. Towards morning, the wind 
freshened and blew them out of their course. 
They hoisted a pair of trousers and a piece of 
oilskin on two oars as a signal of distress, and 
rowed all that day in heavy weather, and all 
that night until the dawn. By that time the 
wind and sea had gone down ; and they sighted 
a buoy and made fast to it, and lay there until 
the afternoon, when they were rescued. 

The name of the master of the Nelson 
was Thomas Crisp, R.N.R., and his Majesty the 
King was graciously pleased to approve of the 
(posthumous) award to Skipper Thomas Crisp 
of the Victoria Cross. 



Envoy 

In making this book, it has been the author 's 
purpose to delineate in simple outline the deeds 
and hardihood of the officers and men of the 
Merchant Service. Out of hundreds of ex- 
amples, those instances have been selected which 
are typical of many others chronicled in the 
records. 

The British seaman, and not only the British 
seaman but the seamen of other nationalities 
who serve in the British Merchant Service, are 
to-day what they have always been : unconquer- 
able, tenacious, silent, infinitely patient. Long 
before the war, the present writer, pondering 
upon the men of the sea, dreamed of a time 
when they should enter upon their part of that 
heritage of wealth which for centuries they have 
toiled and endured, sweated and frozen, to get 
for others ; when they should earn share as well 
as wage, and be sure of steady and highly-paid 
employment in well-found ships, and a snug 
pension when their seafaring days are done. 

The sea service should be, but is not, a chief 
pride of England. Upon the sea service she 
should delight to lavish care and bounty. Now 
that her hoards of money have been taken away 

318 



ENVOY 319 

from her, perhaps England may discern with a 
purged vision the things that belong to her 
honour. 

The merchant seaman in the war has proved 
his title to praise and to his part in wealth. But 
he did that long ago. Now he has proved it 
again. But, unless the present writer is mis- 
taken, the merchant seaman has now learned 
what is his due, and when the time comes he will 
refuse to be put off, and will claim it. But there 
should be no need to make the demand. . . . 

For now is the time to establish the Imperial 
Transport Service, in which the State and the 
shipowner make common cause. 

There is a road runs broad from the docks 
into the heart of the East End, and that is the 
road the seaman walks when he lands in Port of 
London. The deck-hands and the firemen tramp 
along the foul pavement, feeling the whole earth 
solid under their boot-soles because it does not 
lift to the sea, with their pockets full of money, 
and their hearts burning with the lust of life 
known to the wandering exile. So they come to 
a place where two roads meet ; a place of squalid 
shops and foreign smells and filthy public- 
houses, infamous kens and the trulls of the 
causeway. The money is out in a week, some- 
times in a night, and the man is lucky if his head 
be not broken, and then he signs on once more. 
And that is what Port of London does for the 
merchant seaman. 

But happily that is not all. For, at that place 
where the two roads meet, the British and For- 



320 THE MERCHANT SEAMAN IN WAR 

eign Sailors ' Society has built a home for the 
men. It is an example and a beginning. If Lon- 
don did what London onght to do, her gover- 
nors would abolish some square miles of fester- 
ing, wicked private property and build a new 
Sailor Town. Why not? And why not do the 
same in every port? 

In conclusion, the present writer desires to 
express his gratitude to those naval officers at 
the Admiralty who, in the midst of their own 
unremitting labours, have so courteously and 
kindly helped him in his task. 

L. C. C. 



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